r 


LIBRARY 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

SANTA  BARBARA 

PRESENTED  BY 

MRS.  VICTOR  GORTON 
AND 
ISABEL  PARRY 


k. 


FRANZ  LISZT 


BOOKS  BY  JAMES  HUNEKER 

PoBUBHED  BY  CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


Franz  Liszt.    Illustrated.    12mo.    (.Postage 
extra) net,  S2.00 

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The  Youthful  Liszt 


FRANZ    LISZT 


BY 

JAMES   HUNEKER 


WITH    ILLUSTRATIONS 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 

1911 


COPYRIGHT,  191  T,  BT 
CHARLES    SCRIBNER's    SONS 


Published  September,  19  ii 


TO 
HENRY  T.  FINCK 


"  Cenic  oblijse."— F,  Liszt 


CONTENTS 


I.     Liszt:  The  Real  and  Legendary    . 

n.     Aspects  of  His  Art  and  Character 

III.     The  B-Minor  Sonata  and  Other  Piano 
Pieces  


IV.     At  Rome,  Weimar,  Budapest  .     . 

V.     As  Composer 

VI.     Mirrored  by  His  Contemporaries 
VII.     In  the  Footsteps  of  Liszt     ,     . 
VIII.     Liszt  Pupils  and  Lisztiana     .     . 
IX.     Modern  Pianoforte  Virtuosi 

Instead  of  a  Preface    .... 
Index    


PAGE 

I 

34 


59 
78 
103 
201 
327 
353 
418 

439 
443 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

The  Youthful  Liszt Frontispiece 

7ACING  PAGE 

Liszt's  Birthplace,  Raiding 8 

Adam  Liszt — Liszt's  father 12 

Anna  Liszt — Liszt's  mother la 

Daniel  Liszt — Son  of  Liszt 16 

Blandine  OUivier — Daughter  of  Liszt 16 

Cosima  von  Biilow — Daughter  of  Liszt 20 

Liszt,  about  1850 36 

Liszt  at  the  piano 40 

The  Princess  Sayn- Wittgenstein 50 

A  Matinee  at  Liszt's 66 

Countess  Marie  d'Agoult 80 

Liszt  in  his  atelier  at  Weimar 100 

Pauline  Apel — Liszt's  Housekeeper  at  Weimar    .     .  328 

Liszt  and  His  Scholars,  1884 358 

Liszt's  Hand 404 

Last  Picture  of  Liszt,  1886,  Aged  Seventy-five  Years  416 

The  Final  Liszt  Circle  at  Weimar — Liszt  at  the  Upper 

Window 436 


LISZT:  THE   REAL  AND 
LEGENDARY 


Franz  Liszt  remarked  to  a  disciple  of  his: 
"Once  Liszt  helped  Wagner,  but  who  now  will 
help  Liszt  ?  "  This  was  said  in  1874,  when  Liszt 
was  well  advanced  in  years,  when  his  fame  as 
piano  virtuoso  and  his  name  as  composer  were 
wellnigh  eclipsed  by  the  growing  glory  of  Wagner 
— truly  a  glory  he  had  helped  to  create.  In  youth, 
an  Orpheus  pursued  by  the  musical  Maenads 
of  Europe,  in  old  age  Liszt  was  a  Merlin  dealing 
in  white  magic,  still  followed  by  the  Viviens.  The 
story  of  his  career  is  as  romantic  as  any  by  Bal- 
zac. And  the  end  of  it  all  —  after  a  half  century 
and  more  of  fire  and  flowers,  of  proud,  brilliant 
music-making  —  was  tragical.  A  gentle  King 
Lear  (without  the  consolation  of  a  Cordelia),  fol- 
lowing with  resignation  the  conquering  chariot 
of  a  man,  his  daughter's  husband,  who  owed  him 
so  much,  and,  despite  criticism,  bravely  acknowl- 
edged his  debt,  thus  faithful  to  the  end  (he  once 
declared  that  by  Wagner  he  would  stand  or  fall), 
Franz  Liszt  died  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago  at 


FRANZ  LISZT 

Bayreuth,  not  as  Liszt  the  Conqueror,  but  a 
world-weary  pilgrim,  petted  and  flattered  when 
young,  neglected  as  the  star  of  Wagner  arose  on 
the  horizon.  If  only  Liszt  could  have  experi- 
enced the  success  of  poverty  as  did  Wagner. 
But  the  usual  malevolent  fairy  of  the  fable  en- 
dowed him  with  all  the  gifts  but  poverty,  and 
that  capricious  old  Pantaloon,  the  Time-Spirit, 
had  his  joke  in  the  lonesome  latter  years.  As 
regards  his  place  in  the  musical  pantheon,  this 
erst-while  comet  is  now  a  fixed  star,  and  his  feet 
set  upon  the  white  throne.  There  is  no  longer 
a  Liszt  case;  his  music  has  fallen  into  critical 
perspective;  but  there  is  still  a  Liszt  case,  psy- 
chologically speaking.  Whether  he  was  an 
archangel  of  light,  a  Bernini  of  tones,  or,  as  Jean- 
Christophe  describes  him,  "The  noble  priest, 
the  circus-rider,  neo-classical  and  vagabond,  a 
mixture  in  equal  doses  of  real  and  false  nobility," 
is  a  question  that  will  be  answered  according  to 
one's  temperament.  That  he  was  the  captain 
of  the  new  German  music,  a  pianist  without  equal, 
a  conductor  of  distinction,  one  who  had  helped  to 
make  the  orchestra  and  its  leaders  what  they 
are  to-day;  that  he  was  a  writer,  a  reformer  of 
church  music,  a  man  of  the  noblest  impulses  and 
ideals,  generous,  selfless,  and  an  artist  to  his  finger- 
tips —  these  are  the  commonplaces  of  musical 
history.  As  a  personality  he  was  an  apparition; 
only  Paganini  had  so  electrified  Europe.  A 
charmeur,  his  love  adventures  border  on  the  leg- 
endary;  indeed,  are  largely  legend.     As  amor- 


THE  REAL  AND  LEGENDARY 

ous  as  a  guitar,  if  we  are  to  believe  the  romancers, 
the  real  Liszt  was  a  man  of  intellect,  a  deeply 
religious  soul;  in  middle  years  contemplative, 
even  ascetic.  His  youthful  extravagances,  in- 
separable from  his  gipsy-like  genius,  and  with- 
out a  father  to  guide  him,  were  remembered  in 
Germany  long  after  he  had  left  the  concert-plat- 
form. His  successes,  artistic  and  social  —  espe- 
cially the  predilection  for  him  of  princesses  and 
noble  dames  —  raised  about  his  ears  a  nest  of  per- 
nicious scandal-hornets.  Had  he  not  run  away 
with  Countess  D'Agoult,  the  wife  of  a  nobleman! 
Had  he  not  openly  lived  with  a  married  princess 
at  Weimar,  and  under  the  patronage  of  the 
Grand  Duke  and  Duchess  and  the  Grand  Duch- 
ess Maria  Pawlowna,  sister  of  the  Czar  of  all  the 
Russias!  Besides,  he  was  a  Roman  Catholic, 
and  that  didn't  please  such  prim  persons  as 
Mendelssohn  and  Hiller,  not  to  mention  his  own 
fellow-countryman,  Joseph  Joachim.  Germany 
set  the  fashion  in  abusing  Liszt.  He  had  too 
much  success  for  one  man,  and  as  a  composer  he 
must  be  made  an  example  of;  the  services  he  ren- 
dered in  defending  the  music  of  the  insurgent 
Wagner  was  but  another  black  mark  against  his 
character.  And  when  Wagner  did  at  last  suc- 
ceed, Liszt's  share  in  the  triumph  was  speedily 
forgotten.  The  truth  is,  he  paid  the  penalty  for 
being  a  cosmopolitan.  He  was  the  first  cosmo- 
politan in  music.  In  Germany  he  was  abused 
as  a  Magyar,  in  Hungary  for  his  Teutonic  tend- 
encies —  he  never  learned  his   mother   tongue 

3 


FRANZ  LISZT 

— in  Paris  for  not  being  French  bom;  here  one 
recalls  the  Stendhal  case. 

But  he  introduced  into  the  musty  academic  at- 
mosphere of  musical  Europe  a  strong,  fresh  breeze 
from  the  Hungarian  puzta;  this  wandering  piano- 
player  of  Hungarian-Austrian  blood,  a  genuine 
cosmopolite,  taught  music  a  new  charm,  the  charm 
of  the  unexpected,  the  improvised.  The  freedom 
of  Beethoven  in  his  later  works,  and  of  Chopin  in 
all  his  music,  became  the  principal  factor  in  the 
style  of  Liszt.  Music  must  have  the  shape  of 
an  improvisation.  In  the  Hungarian  rhapsodies, 
the  majority  of  which  begin  in  a  mosque,  and 
end  in  a  tavern,  are  the  extremes  of  his  system. 
His  orchestral  and  vocal  works,  the  two  sympho- 
nies, the  masses  and  oratorios  and  symphonic 
poems,  are  full  of  dignity,  poetic  feeling,  religious 
spirit,  and  a  largeness  of  accent  and  manner 
though  too  often  lacking  in  architectonic;  yet 
the  gipsy  glance  and  gipsy  voice  lurk  behind 
many  a  pious  or  pompous  bar.  Apart  from  his 
invention  of  a  new  form  —  or,  rather,  the  con- 
densation and  revisal  of  an  old  one,  the  sym- 
phonic poem  —  Liszt's  greatest  contribution  to 
art  is  the  wild,  truant,  rhapsodic,  extempore 
element  he  infused  into  modern  music;  nature  in 
her  most  reckless,  untrammelled  moods  he  inter- 
preted with  fidelity.  But  the  drummers  in  the 
line  of  moral  gasolene  who  controlled  criticism 
in  Germany  refused  to  see  Liszt  except  as  an 
ex-piano  virtuoso  with  the  morals  of  a  fly  and 
a  perverter  of  art.     Even  the  piquant  triangle 


THE  REAL  AND  LEGENDARY 

in  his  piano-concerto  was  suspected  as  possibly 
suggesting  the  usual  situation  of  French  comedy. 
The  Liszt- Wagner  question  no  longer  presents 
any  difficulties  to  the  fair-minded.  It  is  a  simple 
one;  men  still  living  know  that  Wagner,  to  reach 
his  musical  apogee,  to  reach  his  public,  had  to 
lean  heavily  on  the  musical  genius  and  in- 
dividual inspiration  of  Liszt.  The  later  Wag- 
ner would  not  have  existed  —  as  we  now  know 
him  —  without  first  traversing  the  garden  of 
Liszt.  This  is  not  a  theory  but  a  fact.  Bee- 
thoven, as  Philip  Hale  has  pointed  out,  is  the 
last  of  the  very  great  composers;  there  is  nothing 
new  since  Beethoven,  though  plenty  of  persua- 
sive personalities,  much  delving  in  mole-runs, 
many  "new  paths,"  leading  nowhere,  and  much 
self-advertising.  With  its  big  drum  and  cym- 
bals, its  mouthing  or  melting  phrases,  its  start- 
ling situations,  its  scarlet  waistcoats,  its  hair-oil 
and  harlots,  its  treacle  and  thunder,  the  Roman- 
tic movement  swept  over  the  map  of  Europe, 
irresistible,  contemptuous  to  its  adversaries,  and 
boasting  a  wonderful  array  of  names.  Schu- 
mann and  Chopin,  Berlioz  and  Liszt,  Wagner  — 
in  a  class  by  himself  —  are  a  few  that  may 
be  cited;  not  to  mention  Victor  Hugo,  Delacroix, 
Gautier,  Alfred  de  Musset,  Stendhal.  Georg 
Brandes  assigns  to  Liszt  a  prominent  place 
among  the  Romantics.  But  Beethoven  still 
stood,  stands  to-day,  four  square  to  the  universe. 
Wagner  construed  Beethoven  to  suit  his  own 
grammar.     Why,  for   example,   Berlioz   should 

5 


FRANZ  LISZT 

have  been  puzzled  (or  have  pretended  to)  over 
the  first  page  of  the  Tristan  and  Isolde  prelude 
is  itself  puzzling;  the  Frenchman  was  a  deeply 
versed  Beethoven  student.  If  he  had  looked 
at  the  first  page  of  the  piano  sonata  in  C  minor 
—  the  Pathetic,  so-called  —  the  enigma  of  the 
Wagnerian  phraseology  would  have  been  solved; 
there,  in  a  few  lines,  is  the  kernel  of  this  music- 
drama.  This  only  proves  Wagner's  Shake- 
sperian  faculty  of  assimilation  and  his  extraor- 
dinary gift  in  developing  an  idea  (consider 
what  he  made  of  the  theme  of  Chopin's  C 
minor  study,  the  Revolutionary,  which  he  boldly 
annexed  for  the  opening  measures  of  the  pre- 
lude to  Act  n  of  Tristan  and  Isolde) ;  he  bor- 
rowed his  ideas  whenever  and  wherever  he  saw 
fit  His  indebtedness  to  Liszt  was  great,  but 
equally  so  to  Weber,  Marschner,  and  Beethoven; 
his  indebtedness  to  Berlioz  ended  with  the  exter- 
nals of  orchestration.  Both  Liszt  and  Wagner 
learned  from  Berb'oz  in  this  respect  Neverthe- 
less, how  useless  to  compare  Liszt  to  Berlioz  or 
Berlioz  to  Wagner.  As  well  compare  a  ruby  to 
an  opal,  an  emerald  to  a  ruby.  Each  of  these 
three  composers  has  his  indiWdual  excellences. 
The  music  of  all  three  suffers  from  an  excess  of 
profile.  We  call  Liszt  and  Wagner  the  leaders 
of  the  modems,  but  their  aims  and  methods  were 
radically  different  Wagner  asserted  the  su- 
premacy of  the  drama  over  tone,  and  then,  in- 
consistoidy,  set  himself  down  to  write  the  most 
anotKHiaUy  doqaent  music  diat  was  ever  con- 
6 


THE  REAL  AND  LEGENDARY 

ceived;  Liszt  always  harped  on  the  dramatic,  on 
the  poetic,  and  seldom  employed  words,  believ- 
ing that  the  function  of  instrumental  music  is  to 
convey  in  an  ideal  manner  a  poetic  impression. 
In  this  he  was  the  most  thorough-going  of  poetic 
composers,  as  much  so  in  the  orchestral  domain 
as  was  Chopin  in  his  pianoforte  compositions. 
Since  Wagner's  music-plays  are  no  longer  a  nov- 
elty "  the  long  submerged  trail  of  Liszt  is  making 
its  appearance,"  as  Ernest  Newman  happily 
states  the  case.  But  to  be  truthful,  the  music  of 
both  Liszt  and  Wagner  is  already  a  little  old- 
fashioned.  The  music-drama  is  not  precisely 
in  a  rosy  condition  to-day.  Opera  is  the  weakest 
of  forms  at  best,  the  human  voice  inevitably  lim- 
its the  art,  and  we  are  beginning  to  wonder  what 
all  the  Wagnerian  menagerie,  the  birds,  dragons, 
dogs,  snakes,  swans,  toads,  dwarfs,  giants,  horses, 
and  monsters  generally,  have  to  do  with  music. 
The  music  of  the  future  is  already  the  music  of 
the  past.  The  Wagner  poems  are  uncouth,  cum- 
bersome machines.  We  long  for  a  breath  of 
humanity,  and  it  is  difficult  to  find  it  outside  of 
Tristan  and  Isolde  or  Die  Meistersinger.  Alas! 
for  the  enduring  quality  of  operatic  music.  Noth- 
ing stales  like  theatre  music.  The  rainbow  vi- 
sion of  a  synthesis  of  the  Seven  Arts  has  faded 
forever.  In  the  not  far  distant  future  Wagner 
will  gain,  rather  than  lose,  by  being  played  in  the 
concert-room;  that,  at  least,  would  dodge  the 
ominously  barren  stretches  of  the  Ring,  and  the 
early  operas.   The  Button-Moulder  awaits  at  the 

7 


FRANZ  LISZT 

cross-roads  of  time  all  operatic  music,  even  as  he 
waited  for  Peer  Gynt.  And  the  New  Zealander 
is  already  alive,  though  young,  who  will  visit 
Europe  to  attend  the  last  piano-recital:  that 
species  of  entertainment  invented  by  Liszt,  and 
by  him  described  in  a  letter  to  the  Princess  Bel- 
giojoso  as  colloquies  of  music  and  ennui.  He 
was  the  first  pianist  to  show  his  profile  on  the 
concert  stage,  his  famous  profil  d'ivoire;  before 
Liszt  pianists  either  faced  the  audience  or  sat 
with  their  back  to  the  public. 

The  Princess  Sayn- Wittgenstein  —  one  nat- 
urally drops  into  the  Almanac  de  Gotha  when 
writing  of  the  friends  of  Liszt  —  averred  that 
Liszt  had  launched  his  musical  spear  further  into 
the  future  than  Wagner.  She  was  a  lady  of  firm 
opinions,  who  admired  Berlioz  as  much  as  she 
loathed  Wagner.  But  could  she  have  foreseen 
that  Richard  Strauss,  Parsifal-like,  had  caught 
the  whizzing  lance  of  the  Klingsor  of  Weimar, 
what  would  she  have  said?  Put  the  riddle  to 
contemporary  critics  of  Richard  II  —  who  has, 
at  least,  thrown  off  the  influence  of  Liszt  and 
Wagner,  although  he  too  frequently  takes  snap- 
shots at  the  sublime  in  his  scores.  Otherwise, 
you  can  no  more  keep  Liszt's  name  out  of  the 
music  of  to-day  than  could  good  Mr.  Dick  the 
head  of  King  Charles  from  the  pages  of  his  me- 
morial. 

His  musical  imagination  was  versatile,  his 
impressionability  so  lively  that  he  translated  into 
tone    his    voyages,    pictures,    poems  —  Dante, 


THE  REAL  AND  LEGENDARY 

Goethe,  Heine,  Lamartine,  Obermann,  (Senan- 
cour),  even  Sainte-Beuve  (Les  Consolations,) 
legends,  and  the  cypress-haunted  fountains  of 
the  Villa  d'  Este  (Tivoli);  not  to  mention  can- 
vases by  Raphael,  Mickelangelo,  and  the  unin- 
spired frescoes  of  Kaulbach.  All  was  grist  that 
came  to  his  musical  mill. 

In  a  moment  of  self-forgetfulness,  Wagner 
praised  the  music  of  Liszt  in  superlative  terms. 
No  need  of  quotation;  the  correspondence,  a 
classic,  is  open  to  all.  That  the  symphonic  poem 
was  secretly  antipathetic  to  Wagner  is  the  bald 
truth.  After  all  his  rhapsodic  utterances  con- 
cerning the  symphonies  and  poems  of  Liszt  — 
from  which  he  borrowed  many  a  sparkling  jewel 
to  adorn  some  corner  in  his  giant  frescoes  —  he 
said  in  1877,  "In  instrumental  music  I  am  a 
reactionnaire,  a  conservative.  I  dislike  every- 
thing that  requires  verbal  explanations  beyond 
the  actual  sounds."  And  he,  the  most  copious  of 
commentators  concerning  his  own  music,  in 
which  almost  every  other  bar  is  labelled  with  a 
leading  motive!  To  this  Liszt  wittily  answered 
—  in  an  unpublished  letter  (1878)  —  that  lead- 
ing motives  are  comfortable  inventions,  as  a  com- 
poser does  not  have  to  search  for  a  new  melody. 
But  what  boots  leading  motives  —  as  old  as  the 
hills  and  Johann  Sebastian  Bach — or  symphonic 
poems  nowadays?  There  is  no  Wagner,  there 
is  no  Liszt  question.  After  the  unbinding  of  the 
classic  forms  the  turbulent  torrent  is  become  the 
new  danger.     Who  shall  dam  its  speed !    Brahms 


FRANZ  LISZT 

or  Reger?  The  formal  formlessness  of  the  new 
school  has  placed  Berlioz,  Liszt,  and  Wagner 
on  the  shelf,  almost  as  remotely  as  are  Haydn, 
Mozart,  and  Beethoven.  The  symphonic  poem 
is  now  a  monster  of  appalling  lengths,  thereby, 
as  Mr.  Krehbiel  suggests,  defeating  its  chiefest 
reason  for  existence,  its  brevity.  The  foam  and 
fireworks  of  the  impressionistic  school,  Debussy, 
Dukas,  and  Ravel,  and  the  rest,  are  enjoyable; 
the  piano  music  of  Debussy  has  the  iridescence 
of  a  spider's  web  touched  by  the  fire  of  the  set- 
ting sun;  his  orchestra  is  a  jewelled  conflagra- 
tion. But  he  stems  like  the  others,  the  Russians 
included,  from  Liszt.  Charpentier  and  his  fol- 
lowers are  Wagner  a  la  coule.  Where  it  will  all 
end  no  man  dare  predict.  But  Mr.  Newman  is 
right  in  the  matter  of  programme-music.  It  has 
come  to  stay,  modified  as  it  may  be  in  the  future. 
Too  many  bricks  and  mortar,  the  lust  of  the  ear 
as  well  as  of  the  eye,  glutted  by  the  materialistic 
machinery  of  the  Wagner  music -drama,  have 
driven  the  lovers  of  music-for-music's-sake 
back  to  Beethoven;  or,  in  extreme  cases,  to 
novel  forms  wherein  vigourous  affirmations  are 
dreaded  as  much  as  an  eight- bar  melody;  for 
those  meticulous  temperaments  that  recoil  from 
clangourous  chord,  there  are  the  misty  tonali- 
ties of  Debussy  or  the  verse  of  Paul  Verlaine. 
However,  the  aquarelles  and  pastels  and  land- 
scapes of  Debussy  or  Ravel  were  invented  by 
Urvater  Liszt  —  caricatured  by  Wagner  in  the 
person  of  Wo  tan;   all  the  impressionistic  school 

lO 


THE   REAL  AND   LEGENDARY 

may  be  traced  to  him  as  its  fountain-head.  Think 
of  the  little  sceneries  scattered  through  his  piano 
music,  particularly  in  his  Years  of  Pilgrimage; 
or  of  the  storm  and  stress  of  the  Dante  Sonata. 
The  romanticism  of  Liszt  was,  like  so  many  of 
his  contemporaries,  a  state  of  soul,  a  condition  of 
exalted  or  morbid  sensibility.  But  it  could  not 
be  said  of  him  as  it  could  of  all  the  Men  of  Fine 
Shades  —  Chateaubriand,  Heine,  Stendhal,  Ben- 
jamin Constant,  Sainte-Beuve  —  that  they  were 
only  men  of  feeling  in  their  art,  and  decidedly 
the  reverse  in  their  conduct.  Liszt  was  a  pattern 
of  chivalry,  and  if  he  seems  at  times  as  indulg- 
ing too  much  in  the  Grand  Manner  set  it  down 
to  his  surroundings,  to  his  temperament.  The 
idols  of  his  younger  years  were  Bonaparte  and 
Byron,  Goethe  and  Chateaubriand,  while  in  the 
background  hovered  the  prime  corrupter  of  the 
nineteenth  century  and  the  father  of  Roman- 
ticism, J.  J.  Rousseau. 


II 


The  year  1811  was  the  year  of  the  great  com- 
et. Its  wine  is  said  to  have  been  of  a  richness; 
some  well-known  men  were  born,  beginning  with 
Thackeray  and  John  Bright;  Napoleon's  son,  the 
unhappy  Due  de  Reichstadt,  first  saw  the  light 
that  year,  as  did  Jules  Dupr^,  Theophile  Gautier, 
and  Franz  Liszt.  There  will  be  no  disputes  con- 
cerning the  date  of  his  birth,  October  226.,  as  was 
II 


FRANZ  LISZT 

the  case  with  Chopin.  His  ancestors,  according 
to  a  lengthy  family  register,  were  originally  noble ; 
but  the  father  of  Franz,  Adam  Liszt,  was  a 
manager  of  the  Esterhazy  estates  in  Hungary  at 
the  time  his  only  son  and  child  was  born.  He 
was  very  musical,  knew  Joseph  Haydn,  and  was 
an  admirer  of  Hummel,  his  music  and  playing. 
The  mother's  maiden  name  was  Anna  Lager 
(or  Laager),  a  native  of  lower  Austria,  with  Ger- 
man blood  in  her  veins.  The  mixed  blood  of 
her  son  might  prove  a  source  of  interest  to 
Havelock  Ellis  in  his  studies  of  heredity  and 
genius.  If  Liszt  was  French  in  the  early  years 
of  his  manhood,  he  was  decidedly  German  the 
latter  half  of  his  life.  The  Magyar  only  came 
out  on  the  keyboard,  and  in  his  compositions. 
She  was  of  a  happy  and  extremely  vivacious 
nature,  cheerful  in  her  old  age,  and  contented 
to  educate  her  three  grandchildren  later  in  life. 
The  name  Liszt  would  be  meal  or  flour  in 
English;  so  that  Frank  Flour  might  have  been 
his  unromantic  cognomen;  a  difference  from 
Liszt  Ferencz,  with  its  accompanying  battle-cry 
of  Eljen!  In  his  son  Adam  Liszt  hoped  to 
realise  his  own  frustrated  musical  dreams.  A 
prodigy  of  a  prodigious  sort,  the  comet  and  the 
talent  of  Franz  were  mixed  up  by  the  supersti- 
tious. Some  gipsy  predicted  that  the  lad  would 
return  to  his  native  village  rich,  honoured,  and 
in  a  glass  house  (coach).  This  he  did.  In 
Oedenburg,  during  the  summer  of  1903,  I 
visited  at  an  hour  or  so  distant,  the  town  of 
12 


<  ^ 


H-1  :5 


<  ^ 


THE  REAL  AND  LEGENDARY 

Eisenstadt  and  the  village  of  Raiding  (or 
Reiding).  In  the  latter  is  the  house  where 
Liszt  was  born.  The  place,  which  can  hardly 
have  changed  much  since  the  boyhood  of  Liszt, 
is  called  Dobrjan  in  Hungarian.  I  confess  I 
was  not  impressed,  and  was  glad  to  get  back 
to  Oedenburg  and  civilisation.  In  this  latter 
spot  there  is  a  striking  statue  of  the  composer. 

It  is  a  thrice-told  tale  that  several  estimable 
Hungarian  magnates  raised  a  purse  for  the  boy, 
sent  him  with  his  father  to  Vienna,  where  he 
studied  the  piano  with  the  pedagogue  Carl 
Czerny,  that  indefatigable  fabricator  of  finger- 
studies,  and  in  theory  with  Salieri.  He  was 
kissed  by  the  aged  Beethoven  on  the  forehead 
—  Wotan  saluting  young  Siegfried  —  though 
Schindler,  ami  de  Beethoven,  as  he  dubbed  him- 
self, denied  this  significant  historical  fact.  But 
later  Schindler  pitched  into  Liszt  for  his  Bee- 
thoven interpretations,  hotly  swearing  that  they 
were  the  epitome  of  unmusical  taste.  The  old 
order  change th,  though  not  old  prejudices. 
Liszt  waxed  in  size,  technique,  wisdom.  Soon 
he  was  given  up  as  hopelessly  in  advance  of  his 
teachers.  Wherever  he  appeared  they  hailed 
him  as  a  second  Hummel,  a  second  Beethoven. 
And  he  improvised.  That  settled  his  fate.  He 
would  surely  become  a  composer.  He  v/ent  to 
Paris,  was  known  as  le  petit  Litz,  and  received 
everywhere.  He  became  the  rage,  though  he 
was  refused  admission  to  the  Conservatoire, 
probably  because  he  displayed  too  much  talent 

13 


FRANZ  LISZT 

for  a  boy.  He  composed  an  opera,  Don  Sancho, 
the  score  of  which  has  luckily  disappeared. 
Then  an  event  big  with  consequences  was  expe- 
rienced by  the  youth — he  lost  his  father  in  1827. 
(His  mother  survived  her  husband  until  1866.) 
He  gave  up  concert  performances  as  too  preca- 
rious, and  manfully  began  teaching  in  Paris. 
The  revolution  started  his  pulse  to  beating,  and 
he  composed  a  revolutionary  symphony.  He 
became  a  lover  of  humanity,  a  socialist,  a  fol- 
lower of  Saint-Simon,  even  of  the  impossible 
Fhre  Prosper  Enfantin,  His  friend  and  adviser 
was  Lamenais,  whose  Paroles  d'un  Croyant 
had  estranged  him  from  Rome.  A  wonderful, 
unhappy  man.  Liszt  read  poetry  and  philoso- 
phy, absorbed  all  the  fashionable  frenzied  for- 
mulas and  associated  with  the  Romanticists. 
He  met  Chopin,  and  they  became  as  twin 
brethren.  Franf  ois  Mignet,  author  of  A  History 
of  the  French  Revolution,  said  to  the  Princess 
Cristina  Belgiojoso  of  Liszt:  "In  the  brain  of 
this  young  man  reigns  great  confusion."  No 
wonder.  He  was  playing  the  piano,  compos- 
ing, teaching,  studying  the  philosophers,  and 
mingling  with  enthusiastic  idealists  who  burnt 
their  straw  before  they  moulded  their  bricks. 
As  Francis  Hackett  wrote  of  the  late  Lord 
Acton,  Liszt  suffered  from  "intellectual  log- 
jam." But  the  current  of  events  soon  released 
him. 

He  met  the  Countess  d'Agoult  in  the  brilliant 
whirl  of  his  artistic  success.    She  was  beautiful, 

14 


THE   REAL  AND   LEGENDARY 

accomplished,  though  her  contemporaries  de- 
clare she  was  not  of  a  truthful  nature.  She 
was  born  Marie  Sophie  de  Flavigny,  at  Frank- 
fort-on-Main  in  1805.  Her  father  was  the  Vi- 
comte  de  Flavigny,  who  had  married  the  daughter 
of  Simon  Moritz  Bethmann,  a  rich  banker,  orig- 
inally from  Amsterdam  and  a  reformed  Hebrew, 
She  had  literary  ability,  was  proud  of  having 
once  seen  Goethe,  and  in  1827  she  married 
Comte  Charles  d'Agoult.  But  social  sedition 
was  in  the  air.  The  misunderstood  woman — no 
new  thing  —  was  the  fashion.  George  Sand  was 
changing  her  lovers  with  every  new  book  she 
wrote,  and  Madame,  the  Countess  d'Agoult  — 
to  whom  Chopin  dedicated  his  first  group  of 
Etudes  —  began  to  write,  began  to  yearn  for 
fame  and  adventures.  Liszt  appeared.  He  seems 
to  have  been  the  pursued.  Anyhow,  they  eloped. 
In  honour  he  couldn't  desert  the  woman,  and  they 
made  Geneva  their  temporary  home.  She  had 
in  her  own  right  20,000  francs  a  year  income; 
it  cost  Liszt  exactly  300,000  francs  annually 
to  keep  up  an  establishment  such  as  the 
lady  had  been  accustomed  to  —  he  earned  this, 
a  tidy  amount,  for  those  days,  by  playing  the 
piano  all  over  Europe.  Madame  d'Agoult  bore 
him  three  children:  Blandine,  Cosima,  and  Dan- 
iel. The  first  named  married  Emile  Ollivier, 
Napoleon's  war  minister  —  still  living  at  the 
present  writing  —  in  1857.  She  died  in  1862. 
Cosima  married  Hans  von  Biilow,  her  father's 
favourite  pupil,  in  1857;  later  she  went  ofif  with 

15 


FRANZ  LISZT 

Richard  Wagner,  married  him,  to  her  father's 
despair  —  principally  because  she  had  renounced 
her  religion  in  so  doing  —  and  to-day  is  Wagner's 
widow.  Daniel  Liszt,  his  father's  hope,  died 
December,  1859,  at  the  age  of  twenty,  Liszt 
had  legitimatised  the  birth  of  his  children,  had 
educated  them,  had  dowered  his  daughters,  and 
they  proved  all  three  a  source  of  sorrow. 

He  quarrelled  with  the  D'Agoult  and  they 
parted  bad  friends.  Under  the  pen  name  of 
Daniel  Stern  she  attacked  Liszt  in  her  souve- 
nirs and  novels.  He  forgave  her.  They  met  in 
Paris  once,  in  the  year  i860.  He  gently  told  her 
that  the  title  of  the  souvenirs  should  have  been 
'TosesetMensonges."  She  wept.  Tragic  come- 
dians, both.  They  were  bored  with  one  another; 
their  union  recalls  the  profound  reflection  of  Flau- 
bert, that  Emma  Bovary  found  in  adultery 
all  the  platitudes  of  marriage.  Perhaps  other 
ladies  had  supervened.  Like  Byron,  Liszt  was 
the  sentimental  hero  of  the  day,  a  Chateaubriand 
Ren^  of  the  keyboard.  Balzac  put  him  in  a  book, 
so  did  George  Sand.  All  the  painters  and  sculp- 
tors, Delaroche  and  Ary  Scheff'er  among  others 
made  his  portrait.  Nevertheless,  his  head  was 
not  turned,  and  when,  after  an  exile  of  a  few 
years,  Thalberg  had  conquered  Paris  in  his  ab- 
sence, he  returned  and  engaged  in  an  ivory  duel, 
at  the  end  worsting  his  rival.  Thalberg  was  the 
first  pianist  in  Europe,  contended  every  one. 
And  the  Belgiojoso  calmly  remarked  that  Liszt 
was  the  only  one.  After  witnessing  the  Pade- 
16 


O  -s 


« 


THE   REAL   AND   LEGENDARY 

rewski  worship  of  yesterday  nothing  related  of 
Liszt  should  surprise  us. 

In  the  meantime,  Paganini,  had  set  his  brain 
seething.  Chopin,  Paganini  and  Berlioz  were 
the  predominating  artistic  influences  in  his  life; 
from  the  first  he  appreciated  the  exotic,  learned 
the  resources  of  the  instrument,  and  the  value  of 
national  folk-song  flavour;  from  the  second  he 
gained  the  inspiration  for  his  transcendental  tech- 
nique; from  the  third,  orchestral  colour  and  the 
"new  paths"  were  indicated  to  his  ambitious 
spirit.  He  never  tired,  he  always  said  there 
would  be  plenty  of  time  to  loaf  in  eternity.  His 
pictures  were  everywhere,  he  became  a  kind  of 
Flying  Hungarian  to  the  sentimental  Sentas  of 
those  times.  He  told  Judith  Gautier  that  the 
women  loved  themselves  in  him.  Modest  man! 
What  charm  was  in  his  playing  an  army  of  au- 
ditors have  told  us.  Heine  called  Thalberg  a 
king,  Liszt  a  prophet,  Chopin  a  poet,  Herz 
an  advocate,  Kalkbrenner  a  minstrel,  Madame 
Pleyel  a  Sibyl,  and  Doehler  —  a  pianist.  Scudo 
wrote  that  Thalberg's  scales  were  like  pearls  on 
velvet,  the  scales  of  Liszt  the  same,  but  the  vel- 
vet was  hot!  Louis  Ehlert,  no  mean  observer, 
said  he  possessed  a  quality  that  neither  Tausig 
nor  any  virtuoso  before  or  succeeding  him  ever 
boasted  —  the  nearest  approach,  perhaps,  was 
Rubinstein  —  namely:  a  spontaneous  control  of 
passion  that  approximated  in  its  power  to  nature 
.  .  .  and  an  incommensurable  nature  was  his. 
He  was  one  among  a  dozen  artists  who  made 

17 


FRANZ  LISZT 

Europe  interesting  during  the  past  century.  Slim, 
handsome  in  youth,  brown  of  hair  and  blue- 
eyed,  with  the  years  he  grew  none  the  less  pic- 
turesque; his  mane  was  white,  his  eyes  became 
blue-gray,  his  pleasant  baritone  voice  a  brum- 
ming  bass.  There  is  a  portrait  in  the  National 
Gallery  by  Lorenzo  Lotto,  of  Prothonotary 
Giuhano,  that  suggests  him,  and  in  the  Burne- 
Jones  picture.  Merlin  and  Vivien,  there  is  cer- 
tainly a  transcript  of  his  features.  A  statue  by 
Foyatier  in  the  Louvre,  of  Spartacus,  is  really  the 
head  of  the  pianist.  As  Abbe  he  was  none  the 
less  fascinating;  for  his  admirers  he  wore  his 
soutane  with  a  difference. 

Useless  to  relate  the  Thousand-and-One 
Nights  of  music,  triumphs,  and  intrigues  in  his 
life.  When  the  Countess  d'Agoult  returned  to 
her  family  a  council,  presided  over  by  her  hus- 
band's brother,  exonerated  the  pianist,  and  his 
behaviour  was  pronounced  to  be  that  of  a  gentle- 
man! Surely  the  Comic  Muse  must  have  chuck- 
led at  this.  Like  Wagner,  Franz  Liszt  was  a 
Tragic  Comedian  of  prime  order.  He  knew  to 
the  full  the  value  of  his  electric  personality.  Sin- 
cere in  art,  he  could  play  the  grand  seignior,  the 
actor,  the  priest,  and  diplomat  at  will.  Pose  he 
had  to,  else  abandon  the  profession  of  piano 
virtuoso.  But  he  bitterly  objected  to  playing  the 
role  of  a  performing  poodle,  and  once  publicly 
insulted  the  Czar,  who  dared  to  talk  while  the 
greatest  pianist  in  the  world  played.  He  finally 
grew  tired  of  Paris,  of  public  life.     He  had  been 


THE   REAL  AND   LEGENDARY 

loved  by  such  various  types  of  women  as  George 
Sand  —  re-christened  by  Baudelaire  as  the  Prud- 
homme  of  immorality;  delightful  epigram!  — 
by  Marie  Du  Plessis,  the  Lady  of  the  Camel- 
lias, and  by  that  astounding  adventuress,  Lola 
Montez.  How  many  others  only  a  Leporello 
catalogue  would  show. 

His  third  artistic  period  began  in  1847,  his  so- 
journ at  Weimar.  It  was  the  most  attractive 
and  fruitful  of  all.  From  1848  to  1861  the  musi- 
cal centre  of  Germany  was  this  little  town  im- 
mortalised by  Goethe.  There  the  world  flocked 
to  hear  the  first  performance  of  Lohengrin,  and 
other  Wagner  operas.  A  circle  consisting  of 
Raff,  Von  Biilow,  Tausig,  Cornelius,  Joseph 
Joachim,  Schumann,  Robert  Franz,  Litolff, 
Dionys  Pruckner,  William  Mason,  Lassen,  with 
Berlioz  and  Rubinstein  and  Brahms  (in  1854) 
and  Remenyi  as  occasional  visitors,  to  mention 
a  tithe  of  famous  names,  surrounded  Liszt.  His 
elective  affinity  —  in  Goethe's  phrase  —  was  the 
Princess  Sayn- Wittgenstein,  who  with  her  child 
had  deserted  the  usual  brutal  and  indifferent 
husband  —  in  fashionable  romances.  Her  influ- 
ence upon  Liszt's  character  has  been  disputed,but 
unwarrantably.  She  occasionally  forced  him  to 
do  the  wrong  thing,  as  in  the  case  of  the  ending 
of  the  Dante  symphony;  vide,  the  new  Wagner 
Autobiography.  Together  they  wrote  his  chief 
literary  works,  the  study  of  Chopin — the  princess 
supplying  the  feverish  local  colour,  and  the  book 
on  Hungarian  gipsy  music,  which    contains  a 

19 


FRANZ  LISZT 

veiled  attack  on  the  Jews,  for  which  Liszt  was 
blamed.  The  Sayn-Wittgenstein  was  an  in- 
tense, narrow  nature  —  she  has  been  called  a 
"slightly  vulgar  aristocrat,"  and  one  of  her  pecu- 
liarities was  seeing  in  almost  every  one  of  artistic 
or  intellectual  prominence  Hebraic  traits  or  linea- 
ments. Years  before  the  Geyer  and  the  Leipsic 
Judengasse  story  came  out  she  unhesitatingly 
pronounced  Richard  Wagner  of  Semitic  origin; 
she  also  had  her  doubts  about  Berlioz  and  others. 
The  Lisztian  theory  of  gipsy  music  consists,  as 
Dannreuther  says,  in  the  merit  of  a  laboured  at- 
tempt to  prove  the  existence  of  something  like  a 
gipsy  epic  in  terms  of  music,  the  fact  being  that 
Hungarian  gipsies  merely  play  Hungarian  popu- 
lar tunes  in  a  fantastic  and  exciting  manner,  but 
have  no  music  that  can  properly  be  called  their 
own.  Liszt  was  a  facile,  picturesque  writer  and 
did  more  with  his  pen  for  Wagner  than  Wagner's 
own  turbid  writings.  But  a  great  writer  he  was 
not  —  many-sided  as  he  was.  It  was  unkind, 
however,  on  the  part  of  Wagner  to  say  to  a  friend 
that  Cosima  had  more  brains  than  her  father. 
If  she  has,  Bayreuth  since  her  husband's  death 
hasn't  proved  it.  Wagner,  when  he  uttered  this, 
was  probably  in  the  ferment  of  a  new  passion, 
having  quite  recovered  from  his  supposedly 
eternal  love  for  Mathilde  Wesendonck. 

A  masterful  woman  the  Princess  Sayn-Witt- 
genstein, though  far  from  beautiful,  she  so  con- 
trolled and  ordered  Liszt's  life  that  he  quite  shed 
his  bohemian  skin,  composed  much,  and  as  Kap- 
20 


Cosima  von  Bulow 

Daughter  of  Liszt 


THE  REAL  AND  LEGENDARY 

ellmeister  produced  many  novelties  of  the  new 
school.  They  lived  on  a  hill  in  a  house  called 
the  Altenburg,  not  a  very  princely  abode,  and 
there  Liszt  accomplished  the  major  portion  of 
his  works  for  orchestra,  his  masses  and  piano 
concertos.  There,  too,  Richard  Wagner,  a  rev- 
olutionist, wanted  by  the  Dresden  police,  came 
in  1849  —  from  May  19th  to  24th  —  disguised, 
carrying  a  forged  passport,  poor,  miserable. 
Liszt  secured  him  lodgings,  and  gave  him  a  ban- 
quet at  the  Altenburg  attended  by  Tausig,  Von 
Billow,  Gille,  Draeseke,  Gottschalg,  and  others, 
nineteen  in  all.  Wagner  behaved  badly,  in- 
sulted his  host  and  guests.  He  was  left  in  soli- 
tude until  Liszt  insisted  on  his  apologising  for 
his  rude  manners  —  which  he  did  with  a  bad 
grace.  John  F.  Runciman  has  said  that  Liszt 
ought  to  have  done  even  more  for  Wagner  than 
he  did  —  or  words  to  that  effect;  just  so,  and 
there  is  no  doubt  that  the  noble  man  has  put 
the  world  in  his  debt  by  piloting  the  music- 
dramatist  into  safe  harbour;  but  while  ingrati- 
tude is  no  crime  according  to  Nietzsche  (who, 
quite  illogically,  reproached  Wagner  for  his  in- 
gratitude) there  seems  a  limit  to  amiability,  and 
in  Liszt's  case  his  amiability  amounted  to  weak- 
ness. He  could  never  say  "No"  to  Wagner  (nor 
to  a  pretty  woman).  He  understood  and  for- 
gave the  Mime  nature  in  Wagner  for  the  sake 
of  his  Siegfried  side.  There  was  no  Mime  in 
Liszt,  nothing  small  nor  hateful,  although  he 
could  at  times  play  the  benevolent,  ironic  Me- 
21 


FRANZ  LISZT 

phisto.  And  in  his  art  he  mirrored  the  quality 
to  perfection  —  the  Mephistopheles  of  his  Faust 
Symphony. 

Intrigues  pursued  him  in  his  capacity  as  court 
musical  director.  The  Princess  Maria-Paw - 
lowna  died  June,  1859;  the  following  October 
Princess  Marie,  daughter  of  Princess  Sayn-Witt- 
genstein,  married  the  Prince  Hohenlohe,  and 
Liszt,  after  the  opera  by  Peter  Cornelius  was 
hissed,  resigned  his  post.  He  remembered 
Goethe  and  his  resignation,  caused  by  a  trained 
dog,  at  the  same  theatre.  But  he  didn't  leave 
Weimar  until  August  17,  1861,  joining  the  prin- 
cess at  Rome.  The  scandal  of  the  attempted 
marriage  there  is  told  in  another  chapter.  Again 
the  eyes  of  the  world  were  riveted  upon  Liszt. 
His  very  warts  became  notorious.  Some  say  that 
Cardinal  Antonelli,  instigated  by  Polish  rela- 
tives of  the  princess,  upset  the  affair  when  the 
pair  were  literally  on  the  eve  of  approaching  the 
altar;  some  believe  that  the  wily  Liszt  had  set  in 
motion  the  machinery;  but  the  truth  is  that  at  the 
advice  of  the  Cardinal  Prince  Hohenlohe,  his 
closest  friend,  the  marriage  scheme  was  dropped. 
When  the  husband  of  the  princess  died  there 
was  no  further  talk  of  matrimony.  Instead,  Liszt 
took  minor  orders,  concentrated  his  attention 
on  church  music,  and  henceforth  spent  his  year 
between  Rome,  Weimar,  and  Budapest.  He 
hoped  for  a  position  at  the  Papal  court  analogous 
to  the  one  he  had  held  at  Weimar;  but  the  ap- 
pointment of  music-director  at  St.  Peter's  was 
22 


THE  REAL  AND  LEGENDARY 

never  made.  To  Weimar  he  had  returned  (1869) 
at  the  cordial  invitation  of  the  archduke,  who 
allotted  to  his  use  a  little  house  in  the  park,  the 
Hofgdrtnerei.  There  every  summer  he  received 
pupils  from  all  parts  of  the  world,  gratuitously- 
advising  them,  helping  them  from  his  impover- 
ished purse,  and,  incidentally,  being  admired  by 
a  new  generation  of  musical  enthusiasts,  par- 
ticularly those  of  the  feminine  gender.  There 
were  lots  of  scandals,  and  the  worthy  burghers 
of  the  town  shook  their  heads  at  the  goings-on 
of  the  Lisztianer.  The  old  man  fell  under  many 
influences,  some  of  them  sinister.  He  seldom 
saw  Richard  or  Cosima  Wagner,  though  he  at- 
tended the  opening  of  Bayreuth  in  1876.  On 
that  occasion  Wagner  publicly  paid  a  magnificent 
tribute  to  the  genius  and  noble  friendship  of 
Liszt.  It  atoned  for  a  wilderness  of  previous 
neglect  and  ingratitude. 

With  Wagner's  death  in  1883  his  hold  on 
mundane  matters  began  to  relax.  He  taught,  he 
travelled,  he  never  failed  to  pay  the  princess  an 
annual  visit  at  Rome.  She  had  immured  her- 
self, behind  curtained  windows  and  to  the  light  of 
waxen  tapers  led  the  life  of  a  mystic,  also  smoked 
the  blackest  of  cigars.  She  became  a  theologian 
in  petticoats  and  wrote  numerous  inutile  books 
about  pin-points  in  matters  ecclesiastical.  No 
doubt  she  still  loved  Liszt,  for  she  set  a  spy  on 
him  at  Weimar  and  thus  kept  herself  informed 
as  to  how  much  cognac  he  daily  consumed,  how 
many  pretty  girls  had  asked  for  a  lock  of  his  sil- 

23 


FRANZ  LISZT 

very  hair,  also  the  name  of  the  latest  aspirant 
to  his  affections. 

What  a  brilliant  coterie  of  budding  artists  sur- 
rounded him:  D'Albert,  Urspruch,  Geza  Zichy, 
Friedheim,  Joseffy,  Rosenthal,  Reisenauer,  Grieg, 
Edward  MacDowell,  Burmeister,  Stavenhagen, 
Sofie  Menter,  Toni  Raab,  Nikisch,  Weingartner, 
Siloti,  Laura  Kahrer,  Sauer,  Adele  Aus  der  Ohe, 
Moszkowski,  Scharwenka,  Pachmann,  Saint- 
Saens,  Rubinstein  —  the  latter  not  as  pupil  —  Bo- 
rodin, Van  der  Stucken,  and  other  distinguished 
names  in  the  annals  of  compositions  and  piano 
playing.  Liszt's  health  broke  down,  but  he  per- 
sisted in  visiting  London  in  the  early  summer  of 
1886,  where  he  was  received  as  a  demi-god  by 
Queen  Victoria  and  the  musical  world;  he  had 
been  earlier  in  Paris  where  a  mass  of  his  was 
sung  with  success.  His  money  affairs  were  in  a 
tangle;  once  in  receipt  of  an  income  that  had 
enabled  him  to  throw  money  away  to  any  whin- 
ing humbug,  he  complained  at  the  last  that  he 
had  no  home  of  his  own,  no  income  —  he  had 
not  been  too  shrewd  in  his  dealings  with  music 
publishers  —  and  very  little  cash  for  travelling 
expenses.  The  princess  needed  her  own  rents, 
and  Liszt  was  never  a  charity  pensioner.  Dur- 
ing the  Altenburg  years,  the  Glanzzeit  at  Weimar, 
her  income  had  sufficed  for  both,  as  Liszt  was 
earning  no  money  from  concert- tours.  But  at 
the  end,  despite  his  devoted  disciples,  he  was  the 
very  picture  of  a  deserted,  desolate  old  hero.  And 
he  had  given  away  fortunes,  had  played  fortunes 
24 


THE  REAL  AND  LEGENDARY 

at  benefit-concerts  into  the  coffers  of  cities  over- 
taken by  fire  or  flood.  Surely,  the  seamy  side  of 
success.  "Wer  aher  wird  nun  Liszt  helfenV 
This  half  humorous,  half  pathetic  cry  of  his  had 
its  tragic  significance. 

Liszt  last  touched  the  keyboard  July  19,  1886, 
at  Colpach,  Luxemburg,  the  castle  of  Munkaf  zy, 
the  Hungarian  painter.  Feeble  as  he  must  have 
been  there  was  a  supernatural  aureole  about  his 
music  that  caused  his  hearers  to  weep.  (Fancy 
the  pianoforte  inciting  to  tears!)  He  played  his 
favourite  Liebestraum,  the  Chant  Polonais  from 
the  "Glanes  de  Woronice"  (the  Polish  estate 
of  the  Princess  Sayn- Wittgenstein)  and  the  six- 
teenth of  his  Soirees  de  Vienne.  He  went  on  to 
Bayreuth,  in  company  with  a  persistent  young 
Parisian  lady  —  the  paramount  passion  not  quite 
extinguished  —  attended  a  performance  of  Tris- 
tan and  Isolde,  through  which  he  slept  from  ab- 
solute exhaustion;  though  he  did  not  fail  to  ack- 
nowledge in  company  with  Cosima  Wagner  the 
applause  at  the  end.  He  went  at  once  to  bed  never 
to  leave  it  alive.  He  died  of  lung  trouble  on  the 
night  of  July  31st  or  the  early  hour  of  August  i, 
1886,  and  his  last  word  is  said  to  have  been 
"Tristan."  He  was  buried,  in  haste  —  that  he 
might  not  interfere  with  the  current  Wagner 
festival  —  and,  no  doubt,  is  mourned  at  leisure. 
His  princess  survived  him  a  year;  this  sounds 
more  romantic  than  it  is.  [Madame  d'Agoult 
had  died  in  1876.]  A  new  terror  was  added  to 
death  by  the  ugly  tomb  of  the  dead  man,  designed 

25 


FRANZ  LISZT 

by  his  grandson,  Siegfried  Wagner;  said  to  be  a 
composer  as  well  as  an  amateur  arciiitect.  Vic- 
tories usually  resemble  each  other;  it  is  defeat 
alone  that  wears  an  individual  physiognomy. 
Liszt,  with  all  his  optimism,  did  not  hesitate  to 
speak  of  his  career  as  a  failure.  But  what  a 
magnificent  failure!  "  To  die  and  to  die  young 
— what  happiness,"  was  a  favourite  phrase  of  his. 

Ill 

"  While  remaining  itself  obscure,"  wrote  George 
Moore  of  L'  Education  Sentimentale,  by  Flaubert, 
"this  novel  has  given  birth  to  a  numerous  litera- 
ture. The  Rougon-Macquart  series  is  nothing 
but  L'  Education  Sentimentale  re-written  into 
twenty  volumes  by  a  prodigious  journalist  — 
twenty  huge  balloons  which  bob  about  the  streets, 
sometimes  getting  clear  of  the  housetops.  Mau- 
passant cut  it  into  numberless  walking-sticks; 
Goncourt  took  the  descriptive  passages  and 
turned  them  into  Passy  rhapsodies.  The  book 
has  been  a  treasure  cavern  known  to  forty  thieves, 
whence  all  have  found  riches  and  fame.  The 
original  spirit  has  proved  too  strong  for  general 
consumption,  but,  watered  and  prepared,  it  has 
had  the  largest  sale  ever  known." 

This  particular  passage  is  suited  to  the  case  of 
Liszt.  Despite  his  obligations  to  Beethoven, 
Chopin  and  Berlioz  —  as,  indeed,  Flaubert  owed 
something  to  Chateaubriand,  Bossuet,  and  Bal- 
zac —  he  invented  a  new  form,  the  symphonic 
26 


THE   REAL  AND   LEGENDARY 

poem,  invented  a  musical  phrase,  novel  in  shape 
and  gait,  perfected  the  leading  motive,  employed 
poetic  ideas  instead  of  the  antique  and  academic 
cut  and  dried  square-toed  themes  —  and  was 
ruthlessly  plundered  almost  before  the  ink  was 
dry  on  his  manuscript,  and  without  due  acknowl- 
edgment of  the  original  source.  So  it  came  to 
pass  that  the  music  of  the  future,  lock,  stock, 
and  barrel,  first  manufactured  by  Liszt,  travelled 
into  the  porches  of  the  public  ears  from  the  scores 
of  Wagner,  Raff,  Cornelius,  Saint-Saens,  Tschai- 
kowsky,  Rimsky-Korsakoff,  Borodin,  and  minor 
Russian  composers  and  a  half-hundred  besides 
of  the  new  men,  beginning  with  the  name  of 
Richard  Strauss  —  that  most  extraordinary  per- 
sonality of  latter-day  music.  And  Liszt  sat  in 
Weimar  and  smiled  and  waited  and  waited  and 
smiled;  and  if  he  has  achieved  paradise  by  this 
time  he  is  still  smiling  and  waiting.  He  often 
boasted  that  storms  were  his  metier,  meaning  their 
tonal  reproduction  in  orchestral  form  or  on  the 
keyboard  —  but  I  suspect  that  patience  was  his 
cardinal  virtue. 

Henry  James  once  wrote  of  the  human  soul 
and  it  made  me  think  of  Liszt:  "A  romantic, 
moonlighted  landscape,  with  woods  and  moun- 
tains and  dim  distances,  visited  by  strange  winds 
and  murmurs,"  Liszt's  music  often  evokes  the 
golden  opium-haunted  prose  of  De  Quincy; 
it  is  at  once  sensual  and  rhetorical.  It  also  has 
its  sonorous  platitudes,  unheavenly  lengths,  and 
barbaric  yawps. 

27 


FRANZ  LISZT 

Despite  his  marked  leaning  toward  the  classic 
(Raphael,  Correggio,  Mickelangelo,  and  those 
frigid,  colourless  Germans,  Kaulbach,  Cornehus, 
Schadow,  not  to  mention  the  sweetly  romantic 
Ary  Scheffer  and  the  sentimental  Delaroche),  by 
temperament  Liszt  was  a  lover  of  the  grotesque, 
the  baroque,  the  eccentric,  even  the  morbid.  He 
often  declared  that  it  was  his  pet  ambition  to 
give  a  piano  recital  in  the  Salon  Carre  of  the 
Louvre,  where,  surrounded  by  the  canvases  of 
Da  Vinci,  Raphael,  Giorgione,  Titian,  Tintor- 
etto, Rembrandt,  Veronese,  and  others  of  the 
immortal  choir,  he  might  make  music  never  to 
be  forgotten.  In  reality,  he  would  have  played 
with  more  eflfect  if  the  pictures  had  been  painted 
by  Salvator  Rosa,  El  Greco,  Hell-Fire  Breughel, 
Callot,  Orcagna  (the  Dance  of  Death  at  Pisa), 
Matthew  Griinwald;  or  among  the  moderns, 
Gustave  Dord,  the  macabre  Wiertz  of  Brussels, 
Edward  Munch,  Matisse  or  Picasso.  Ugliness 
mingled  with  voluptuousness,  piety  doubted  by 
devilry,  the  quaint  and  the  horrible,  the  satanic 
and  the  angelic,  these  states  of  soul  (and 
body)  appealed  to  Liszt  quite  as  much  as  they 
did  to  Berlioz.  They  are  all  the  apex  of  delir- 
ious romanticism;  —  now  as  dead  as  the  class- 
icism that  preceded  and  produced  it  —  of  the 
seeking  after  recondite  sensations  and  express- 
ing them  by  means  of  the  eloquent,  versatile 
orchestral  apparatus.  Think  what  roles  Death 
and  Lust  play  in  the  over-strained  art  of  the 
Romantics  (the  "hairy  romantic!'  as  Thack- 
28 


THE  REAL  AND  LEGENDARY 

eray  called  Berlioz,  and  no  doubt  Liszt,  for  he 
met  him  in  London);  what  bombast,  what 
sonorous  pomp  and  pageantry,  what  sighing 
sensuousness,  what  brilliant  martial  spirit  — 
they  are  all  to  be  found  in  Liszt.  In  musical 
irony  he  never  had  but  one  match,  Chopin  — 
until  Richard  Strauss;  Berlioz  was  also  an 
adept  in  this  disquieting  mood.  Liszt  makes  a 
direct  appeal  to  the  nerves,  he  has  the  trick  of 
getting  atmosphere  with  a  few  bars;  and  even  if 
his  great  solo  sonata  has  been  called  "The  Invi- 
tation to  Hissing  and  Stamping"  (thus  named  by 
Gumprecht,  a  blind  critic  of  Berlin,  about  1854) 
the  work  itself  is  a  mine  of  musical  treasures, 
and  a  most  dramatic  sonata  —  that  is  if  one 
accepts  Liszt's  definition  of  the  form.  Here 
we  recall  Cabaner's  music  —  as  reported  by  Mr. 
Moore  —  "  the  music  that  might  be  considered 
by  Wagner  as  a  little  too  advanced,  but  which 
Liszt  would  not  fail  to  understand." 

Liszt's  music  is  virile  and  homophonic,  de- 
spite its  chromatic  complexities.  Instead  of  lack- 
ing in  thematic  invention  he  was,  perhaps,  a 
trifle  too  facile,  too  Italianate;  he  shook  too 
many  melodies  from  his  sleeve  to  be  always 
fresh;  in  a  word,  he  composed  too  much.  Archi- 
tecturally his  work  recalls  at  times  the  fan- 
tastic Kremlin,  or  the  Taj  Mahal,  or  —  as 
in  the  Graner  Mass  —  a  strange  perversion  of 
the  gothic.  Liszt  was  less  the  master-builder 
than  the  painter;  color,  not  form,  was  his 
stronger   side.      And    like    Chateaubriand    his 

29 


FRANZ  LISZT 

music  is  an  interminglement  of  religious  with 
moods  of  sensuality.  An  authority  has  written 
that  his  essays  in  counterpoint  are  perhaps 
more  successful  than  those  of  Berlioz,  though 
his  fugue  subjects  are  equally  artificial;  and 
he  fails  to  make  the  most  of  them  (but  couldn't 
the  same  be  said  of  Beethoven,  or  of  the  contra- 
puntal Reger?).  Both  the  French  and  Hun- 
garian masters  seem  to  have  concocted  rather 
than  have  composed  their  fugues.  All  of  which 
is  the  eternal  rule  of  thumb  over  again.  The 
age  of  the  fugue,  like  the  age  of  manufactured 
miracles,  is  forever  past.  If  you  don't  care  for 
the  fugal  passages  and  part- writing  in  the  Graner 
Mass  or  in  the  organ  music,  then  there  is  nothing 
more  to  be  said.  Charles  Lamb  inveighed  against 
concertos  and  instrumental  music  because,  as  he 
wrote,  "words  are  something;  but  to  gaze  on 
empty  frames,  and  to  be  forced  to  make  the  pict- 
ures for  yourself  ...  to  invent  extempore  trage- 
dies is  to  answer  the  vague  gestures  of  an  inex- 
plicable rambling  mime."  This  unimaginative 
condition  is  the  precise  one  from  which  suffered 
so  many  early  and  too  many  later  critics  of 
Liszt's  original  music.  If  you  are  not  in  the 
mood  poetical,  whether  lyric,  heroic,  or  epic,  then 
go  to  some  other  composer.  And  I  protest  against 
the  parenthetical  position  allotted  him  by  musical 
commentators,  mostly  of  the  Bayreuth  brood. 
The  Wagner  family  saw  to  it  that  the  mighty 
Richard  should  be  furnished  with  an  appropriate 
artistic  pedigree;    Beethoven   and   Gliick   were 

30 


THE  REAL  AND  LEGENDARY 

called  his  precursors.  Liszt  is  not  a  transitional 
composer,  except  that  all  great  composers  are  a 
link  in  the  unending  chain.  But,  though  he 
helped  Wagner  to  his  later  ideas  and  style,  he 
had  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  the  Wagnerian 
music-drama  or  the  Wagnerian  attitude  toward 
art.  Berlioz,  Liszt,  and  Wagner  are  all  three  as 
different  in  conception  and  texture  as  Handel 
and  Haydn  and  Mozart;  yet  many  say  Handel 
and  Haydn,  or,  worse  still,  Mozart  and  Bee- 
thoven. Absurd  and  unjust  bracketings  by  the 
fat-minded  unmusical. 

In  musicianship  Liszt  had  no  contemporary 
who  could  pretend  to  tie  his  shoe-strings,  with 
the  possible  exception  of  Felix  Mendelssohn. 
And  in  one  particular  he  ranks  next  to  Bach  and 
Beethoven  —  in  rhythmic  invention;  after  Bach 
and  Beethoven,  Liszt  stands  nearest  as  regards 
the  variety  of  his  rhythms.  His  Eastern  blood  — 
the  Magyar  came  from  Asia  —  may  account  for 
this  rhythmic  versatility.  It  is  a  point  not  to 
be  overlooked  in  future  estimates  of  the  com- 
poser. 

How  then  account  for  the  rather  indifferent 
fashion  with  which  the  Liszt  compositions  are 
received  by  the  musical  public,  not  only  here, 
but  in  Europe?  This  year  (191 1)  the  festivals 
in  honor  of  the  Master's  Centenary  may  revive 
interest  in  his  music  and,  perhaps,  open  the  ears 
of  the  present  generation  to  the  fact  that  Strauss, 
Debussy  and  others  are  not  as  original  as  they 
sound.     But  I  fear  that  Liszt,  like  any  other  dead 

31 


FRANZ  LISZT 

composer  —  save  the  few  giants,  Bach,  Mozart 
and  Beethoven  —  will  be  played  as  a  matter  of 
course,  sometimes  from  piety,  sometimes  be- 
cause certain  dates  bob  up  on  the  calendar.  His 
piano  music,  the  most  grateful  ever  written,  will 
die  hard,  yet  die  it  will. 

Musicians  should  never  forget  Liszt,  who,  as 
was  the  case  with  Henry  Irving  and  the  English 
speaking  actors,  was  the  first  to  give  musicians 
a  social  standing  and  prestige;  before  his  time 
a  pianist,  violinist,  organist,  singer,  was  hardly 
superior  to  a  lackey.  Liszt  was  the  aristocrat 
of  his  art;  his  essential  nobihty  of  soul,  coupled 
with  his  flaming  genius,  made  him  that.  And 
he  came  from  a  cottage  that  seemed  like  a  peas- 
ant's.    A  point  for  your  anarch  in  art. 

Whatever  the  fluctuations  of  the  chameleon  of 
the  Seven  Arts,  the  best  music  will  be  always 
beautiful;  beautiful  with  the  old  or  the  new 
beauty.  Ugliness  for  the  sheer  sake  of  ugliness 
never  endures;  but  one  must  be  able  to  define 
modern  beauty,  else  find  oneself  in  the  predica- 
ment of  those  deaf  ones  who  could  not  or  would 
not  hear  the  beauty  of  Wagner;  or  those  blind 
ones  who  would  not  or  could  not  see  the  char- 
acteristic truth  and  beauty  in  the  pictures  of 
Edouard  Manet.  The  sting  and  glamour  of  the 
Liszt  orchestral  music  has  compelling  quality. 
Probably  one  of  the  most  eloquent  tributes  paid 
to  music  is  the  following,  and  by  a  critic  of  pic- 
torial art,  Mr.  D.  S.  MacColl,  now  keeper  of  the 
Wallace  Collection  in  London.     He  wrote: 

32 


THE  REAL  AND  LEGENDARY 

"An  art  that  came  out  of  the  old  world  two 
centuries  ago  with  a  few  chants,  love-songs,  and 
dances,  that  a  century  ago  was  still  tied  to  the 
words  of  a  mass  or  an  opera,  or  threading  little 
dance  movements  together  in  a  'suite,'  became, 
in  the  last  century,  this  extraordinary  debauch, 
in  which  the  man  who  has  never  seen  a  battle, 
loved  a  woman,  or  worshipped  a  god  may  not 
only  ideally  but  through  the  response  of  his  nerves 
and  pulses  to  immediate  rhythmical  attack,  en- 
joy the  ghosts  of  struggle,  rapture  and  exaltation 
with  a  volume  and  intricacy,  an  anguish,  a  tri- 
umph, an  irresponsibility  unheard  of.  An  am- 
plified pattern  of  action  and  emotion  is  given; 
each  man  fits  to  it  the  images  he  will." 


33 


II 

ASPECTS  OF  HIS  ART  AND 
CHARACTER 


LISZT  AND  THE  LADIES 

The  feminine  friendships  of  Franz  Liszt 
gained  for  him  as  much  notoriety  as  his  music 
making.  To  the  average  public  he  was  a  com- 
pound of  Casanova,  Byron  and  Goethe,  and  to 
this  mixture  could  have  been  added  the  name  of 
Stendhal.  Liszt's  love  affairs,  Liszt's  children, 
Liszt's  perilous  escapes  from  daggers,  pistols  and 
poisons  were  the  subjects  of  conversation  in  Eu- 
rope three-quarters  of  a  century  ago,  as  earlier 
Byron  was  both  hero  and  black-sheep  in  the  cur- 
rent gossip  of  his  time.  And  as  Liszt  was  in  the 
public  eye  and  ubiquitous  —  he  travelled  rapidly 
over  Europe  in  a  post-chaise,  often  giving  two 
concerts  in  one  day  at  different  places  —  he  be- 
came a  sort  of  legendary  figure,  a  musical  Don 
Juan.  He  was  not  unmindful  of  the  value  of 
advertisement,  so  the  legend  grew  with  the  years. 
That  his  reputation  for  gallantry  was  hugely  ex- 
aggerated it  is  hardly  necessary  to  add;  a  man 

34 


HIS  ART  AND   CHARACTER 

who,  accomplished  as  much  as  he,  whether  au- 
thor, pianoforte  virtuoso  or  composer,  could  have 
hardly  had  much  idle  time  on  his  hands  for  the 
devil  to  dip  into;  and  then  his  correspondence. 
He  wrote  or  dictated  literally  thousands  of  letters. 
He  was  an  ideal  letter-writer.  No  one  went  un- 
answered, and  a  fairly  good  biography  might  be 
evolved  from  the  many  volumes  of  his  corre- 
spondence. Nevertheless  he  did  find  time  for 
much  philandering,  and  for  the  cultivation  of 
numerous  platonic  friendships.  But  the  witty 
characterisation  of  Madame  Plater  holds  good  of 
Liszt.  She  said  one  day  to  Chopin:  "If  I  were 
young  and  pretty,  my  little  Chopin,  I  would  take 
thee  for  husband,  Ferdinand  Hiller  for  friend, 
and  Liszt  for  lover."  This  was  in  1833,  when 
Liszt  was  twenty-two  years  of  age  and  the  witti- 
cism definitely  places  Liszt  in  the  sentimental 
hierarchy. 

La  Mara,  an  indefatigable  and  enthusiastic 
collector  of  anecdotes  about  unusual  folk,  has 
just  published  a  book,  Liszt  und  die  Frauen.  It 
deals  with  twenty-six  friends  of  Liszt  and  does 
not  lean  heavily  on  scandal  as  an  attractive  ad- 
junct; indeed  La  Mara  (Marie  Lipsius)  sees  mu- 
sical life  through  rose-coloured  spectacles,  and 
Liszt  is  one  of  her  gods.  For  her  he  is  more 
sinned  against  than  sinning,  more  pursued  than 
pursuer;  his  angelic  wings  grow  in  size  on  his 
shoulders  while  you  watch.  Only  a  few  of  the 
ladies,  titled  and  otherwise,  mentioned  in  this 
book  enjoyed  the  fleeting  affection  of  the  pianist- 

35 


FRANZ  LISZT 

composer.  Whatever  else  he  might  have  been, 
Liszt  was  not  a  vulgar  gallant.  Over  his  swift- 
est passing  intrigues  he  contrived  to  throw  an 
air  of  mystery.  In  sooth,  he  was  an  idealist  and 
romanticist.  No  one  ever  heard  him  boast  his 
conquests. 

Did  Liszt  ever  love?  It  has  been  questioned 
by  some  of  his  biographers.  His  first  passion, 
however,  seems  to  have  been  genuine,  as  genuine 
'as  his  love  for  his  mother  and  for  his  children;  he 
proved  more  admirable  as  a  father  than  he  would 
have  been  as  a  husband.  In  1823  as  "le  petit 
Litz"  he  had  set  all  musical  Paris  wondering. 
When  his  father  died  in  1827  he  gave  lessons  there 
like  any  everyday  pianoforte  pedagogue  because 
he  needed  money  for  the  support  of  his  mother. 
Among  his  aristocratic  pupils  was  Caroline  de 
Saint-Criq,  the  daughter  of  the  Minister  of  Com- 
merce, Count  de  Saint-Criq.  It  must  have  been 
truly  a  love  in  the  clouds.  Caroline  was  mother- 
less. She  was,  as  Liszt  later  declared,  "  a  woman 
ideally  good."  Her  father  did  not  enjoy  the  pros- 
pect of  a  son-in-law  who  gave  music  lessons,  and 
the  intimacy  suddenly  snapped.  But  Liszt  never 
forgot  her;  she  became  his  mystic  Beatrice,  for 
her  and  to  her  he  composed  and  dedicated  a  song; 
and  even  meeting  her  at  Pau  in  1844,  just  sixteen 
years  after  their  rupture,  did  not  create  the  dis- 
enchantment usual  in  such  cases.  Berlioz,  too, 
sought  an  early  love  when  old,  and  in  his  eyes 
she  was  as  she  always  had  been;  Stendhal  burst 
into  tears  on  seeing  again  Angela  Pietagrua  after 

36 


Liszt,  about  1850 


HIS  ART  AND  CHARACTER 

eleven  years  absence.  Verily  art  is  a  sentimental 
antiseptic. 

Caroline  de  Saint-Criq  had  married  like  the 
dutiful  daughter  she  was,  and  Liszt's  heart  by 
1844  was  not  only  battle-scarred  but  a  cemetery 
of  memories.  She  died  in  1874.  They  had  cor- 
responded for  years,  and  at  the  moment  of  their 
youthful  parting,  caused  by  a  cruel  and  extremely 
sensible  father,  they  made  a  promise  to  recall 
each  other's  names  at  the  hour  of  the  daily 
angelus.  Liszt  averred  that  he  kept  his  prom- 
ise. The  name  of  the  lyric  he  wrote  for  her  is: 
"Je  voudrais  m'dvanouir  comme  la  pourpre  du 
soir"  ("Ich  mdchte  hingehn  wie  das  Abendrot"). 

Before  the  affair  began  with  the  Countess 
d'Agoult,  afterward  the  mother  of  his  three  chil- 
dren, Liszt  enjoyed  an  interlude  with  the  Coun- 
tess Adele  Laprunarede.  It  was  the  year  of  the 
revolution,  1830,  and  the  profound  despondency 
into  which  he  had  been  cast  by  his  unhappy  love 
for  Caroline  was  cured,  as  his  mother  sagely  re- 
marked, by  the  sound  of  cannon.  He  became  a 
fast  friend  of  Countess  Adele  and  followed  her 
to  her  home  in  the  Alps,  there,  as  he  jestingly  said, 
to  pursue  their  studies  in  style  in  the  French  lan- 
guage. It  must  not  be  forgotten  that  the  Count, 
her  husband,  was  their  companion.  But  Paris 
wagged  its  myriad  tongues  all  the  same.  Liszt's 
affiliation  with  Countess  Louis  Plater,  born  Gra- 
fin  Brzostowska,  the  Pani  Kasztelanowa  (or 
lady  castellan  in  English;  no  wonder  he  wrote 
such  chromatic  music  later,   these  dissonantal 

37 


FRANZ  LISZT 

names  must  have  been  an  inspiration)  was  purely 
platonic,  as  were  the  majority  of  his  friendships 
with  the  sex.  But  he  dearly  loved  a  princess,  and 
the  sharp  eyes  of  Miss  Amy  Fay  noted  that  his 
bow  when  meeting  a  woman  of  rank  was  a  trifle 
too  profound.  (See  her  admirable  Music  Study 
in  Germany.)  The  truth  is  that  Liszt  was  a 
courtier.  He  was  reared  in  aristocratic  sur- 
roundings, and  he  took  to  luxury  as  would  a  cat. 
With  the  cannon  booming  in  Paris  he  sketched 
the  plan  of  his  Revolutionary  Symphony,  but 
he  continued  to  visit  the  aristocracy.  In  1831 
at  Stuttgart  his  friend  Frederic  Chopin  wrote 
a  "revolutionary"  study  (in  C  minor,  opus  10) 
on  hearing  of  Warsaw's  downfall.  Wagner  rang 
incendiary  church  bells  during  the  revolutionary 
days  at  Dresden  in  May  1849.  Brave  gestures,  as 
our  French  friends  would  put  it,  and  none  the 
less  lasting.  Liszt's  symphony  is  lost,  but  its 
themes  may  have  bobbed  up  in  his  Faust  and 
Dante  symphonies.  Who  remembers  the  War- 
saw of  1 83 1  except  Chopin  lovers?  And  the  re- 
bellious spirit  of  Wagner's  bell -ringing  passed 
over  into  his  Tetralogy.  Nothing  is  negligible 
to  an  artist,  not  even  a  "gesture."  Naturally 
there  is  no  reference  to  the  incident  in  his  au- 
tobiography. If  you  are  to  take  Wagner  at  his 
word  he  was  a  mere  looker-on  in  Dresden  dur- 
ing what  Bakounine  contemptuously  called  "a 
petty  insurrection."  Nietzsche  was  right — great 
men  are  to  be  distrusted  when  they  write  of 
themselves. 

38 


HIS  ART  AND  CHARACTER 

With  the  Madame  d'Agoult  and  Princess  Witt- 
genstein episodes  we  are  not  concerned  just  now. 
So  much  has  been  written  in  this  two- voiced  fugue 
in  the  symphony  of  Liszt's  life  that  it  is  difficult 
to  disentangle  the  truth  from  the  fable.  La 
Mara  is  sympathetic,  though  not  particularly 
enlightening.  Of  more  interest,  because  of 
the  comparative  mystery  of  the  affair,  is  th? 
friendship  between  George  Sand  and  Liszt. 
Naturally  La  Mara,  sentimentalist  that  she  is, 
denies  a  liaison.  She  errs.  There  was  a  brief 
love  passage.  But  Liszt  escaped  the  fate  of  De 
Musset  and  Chopin.  Balzac  speaks  of  the  mat- 
ter in  his  novel  Beatrix,  in  which  George  Sand 
is  depicted  as  Camille  Maupin,  the  Countess 
d'Agoult  as  Beatrix,  Gustave  Planch^  as  Claude 
Vignon,  and  Liszt  as  Conti.  Furthermore,  the 
D'Agoult  was  jealous  of  Madame  Sand,  doubly 
jealous  of  her  as  a  friend  of  Liszt  and  as  a  writer 
of  genius.  Read  the  D'Agoult's  novel,  written 
after  her  parting  with  Liszt,  and  see  how  in  this 
Nelida  she  imitates  the  Elle  et  Lui.  That  she 
hated  George  Sand,  after  a  pretended  friendship, 
cannot  be  doubted;  we  have  her  own  words  as 
witnesses.  In  My  Literary  Life,  by  Madame  Ed- 
mond  Adam  (Juliette  Lamber),she  said  of  George 
Sand  to  the  author:  "  Her  lovers  are  to  her  a  piece 
of  chalk,  with  which  she  scratches  on  the  black- 
board. When  she  has  finished  she  crushes  the 
chalk  under  her  foot,  and  there  remains  but  the 
dust,  which  is  quickly  blown  away."  "How 
is  it,  my  esteemed  and  beloved  friend,  you  have 

39 


FRANZ  LISZT 

never  forgiven?"  sadly  asked  Madame  Adam. 
"  Because  the  wound  has  not  healed  yet.  Con- 
scious that  I  had  put  my  whole  life  and  soul 
into  my  love  for  Liszt  she  tried  to  take  him 
away  from  me." 

One  would  suppose  from  the  above  that 
Liszt  was  faithful  to  Madame  d'Agoult  or  that 
George  Sand  had  separated  the  runaway  couple, 
whereas  in  reality  Liszt  knew  George  Sand  before 
he  met  the  D'Agoult.  What  Madame  Sand  said 
of  Liszt  as  a  gallant  can  hardly  be  paraphrased 
in  English,  She  was  not  very  flattering.  Perhaps 
George  Sand  was  a  reason  why  the  relations  be- 
tween Chopin  and  Liszt  cooled;  the  latter  said: 
"  Our  lady  loves  had  quarrelled,  and  as  good 
cavaliers  we  were  in  duty  bound  to  side  with 
them."  Chopin  said:  "We  are  friends,  we  were 
comrades."  Liszt  told  Dr.  Niecks:  "There  was 
a  cessation  of  intimacy,  but  no  enmity.  I  left 
Paris  soon  after,  and  never  saw  him  again."  It 
was  at  the  beginning  of  1840  that  Liszt  went 
to  Chopin's  apartment  accompanied  by  a  com- 
panion. Chopin  was  absent.  On  his  return  he 
became  furious  on  learning  of  the  visit.  No  won- 
der. Who  was  the  lady  in  the  case?  It  could 
have  been  Marie,  it  might  have  been  George 
Sand,  and  probably  it  was  some  new  fancy. 

More  adventurous  were  Liszt's  affairs  with 
Marguerite  Gautier,  the  lady  of  the  camellias, 
the  consumptive  heroine  of  the  Dumas  play,  as 
related  by  Jules  Janin,  and  with  the  more  no- 
torious Lola  Montez,  who  had  to  leave  Munich 
40 


HIS  ART  AND   CHARACTER 

to  escape  the  wrath  of  the  honest  burghers.  The 
king  had  humoured  too  much  the  lady's  extrav- 
agant habits.  She  fell  in  love  with  Liszt,  who 
had  parted  with  his  Marie  in  1844,  and  went  with 
him  to  Constantinople.  Where  they  separated 
no  one  knows.  It  was  not  destined  to  be  other 
than  a  fickle  passion  on  both  sides,  not  without 
its  romantic  aspects  for  romantically  inclined 
persons.  Probably  the  closest  graze  with  hatred 
and  revenge  ever  experienced  by  Liszt  was  the 
Olga  Janina  episode.  Polish  and  high  born, 
rich,  it  is  said,  she  adored  Liszt,  studied  with 
him,  followed  him  from  Weimar  to  Rome,  from 
Rome  to  Budapest,  bored  him,  shocked  him  as 
an  abb^  and  scandalised  ecclesiastical  Rome  by 
her  mad  behaviour;  finally  she  attempted  to  stab 
him,  and,  failing,  took  a  dose  of  poison.  She 
didn't  die,  but  lived  to  compose  a  malicious  and 
clever  book.  Souvenirs  d'une  Cosaque  (written 
at  Paris  and  Karentec,  March  to  September, 
published  by  the  Libraire  Internationale,  1875, 
now  out  of  print),  and  signed  "Robert  Franz." 
Poor  old  Liszt  is  mercilessly  dissected,  and  his 
admiring  circle  at  Weimar  slashed  by  a  vigour- 
ous  pen.  In  truth,  despite  the  falsity  of  the  pic- 
ture, Olga  Janina  wrote  much  more  incisively, 
with  more  personal  colour  and  temperament, 
than  did  Countess  d'Agoult,  who  also  caricatured 
Liszt  in  her  Nelida  (as  "Guermann"),  and  the 
good  Liszt  wrote  to  his  princess:  "Janina  was 
not  evil,  only  exalted."  [I  have  heard  it  whis- 
pered that  the  attempt  on  Liszt's  life  at  Rome 

41 


FRANZ  LISZT 

was  a  melodramatic  affair,  concocted  by  his  prin- 
cess, who  was  jealous  of  the  Janina  girl,  with  the 
aid  of  the  pianist's  valet.] 

La  Mara  shows  to  us  twenty-six  portraits  in 
her  Liszt  and  the  Ladies;  they  include  Princess 
Cristina  Belgiojoso,  Pauline  Viardot-Garcia,  Car- 
oline Unger-Sabatier,  Marie  Camille  Pleyel, 
Charlotte  von  Hagn,  Bettina  von  Arnim,  Ma- 
rie von  Mouchanoff-Kalergis,  Rosalie,  Countess 
Sauerma,  a  niece  of  Spohr  and  an  accomplished 
harp  player;  the  Grand  Duchess  of  Saxony, 
Maria  Pawlowna,  and  her  successor,  Sophie, 
Grand  Duchess  of  Weimar,  both  patronesses  of 
Liszt;  the  Princess  Wittgenstein,  Emilie  Merian- 
Genast,  Agnes  Street  Klindworth,  Jessie  Hille- 
brand  Laussot,  Sofie  Menter,  the  greatest  of  his 
women  pupils;  the  Countess  Wolkenstein  and 
Billow,  Elpis  Melena,  Fanny,  the  Princess  Ros- 
pigHosi,  the  Baroness  Olga  Meyendorff  (this  lady 
enjoyed  to  an  extraordinary  degree  the  confi- 
dence of  Liszt.  At  Weimar  she  was  held  in 
high  esteem  by  him  —  and  hated  by  his  pupils), 
and  Nadine  Helbig — Princess  Nadine  Schahaw- 
skoy.  Madame  Helbig  was  born  in  1847  and 
went  to  Rome  the  first  time  in  1865.  She  be- 
came a  Liszt  pupil  and  a  fervent  propagandist. 
Her  crayon  sketch  drawing  of  the  venerable  mast- 
er is  excellent.  In  her  possession  is  a  drawing  by 
Ingres,  who  met  Liszt  in  Rome,  1839,  when  the 
pianist  was  twenty-eight  years  of  age.  We  learn 
that  Liszt  never  attempted  "poetry"  with  the 
exception  of  a  couplet  which  he  sent  to  the  egrc- 

42 


HIS  ART  AND   CHARACTER 

gious  Bettina  von  Arnim.  It  runs  thus,  and  it 
consoles  us  with  its  crackling  consonants  for 
the  discontinuance  of  further  poetic  flights  on  the 
part  of  its  creator: 

"Ich  kraxele  auf  der  Leiter 
Und  komme  doch  nicht  weiter." 


II 

A  FAMOUS  FRIENDSHIP 

The  perennial  interest  of  the  world  in  the 
friendships  of  famous  men  and  women  is  proved 
by  the  never-ceasing  publication  of  books  con- 
cerning them.  Of  George  Sand  and  her  lovers 
how  much  has  been  written.  George  Eliot  and 
Lewes,  Madame  de  R^camier  and  Chateau- 
briand, Goethe  and  his  affinities,  Chopin  and 
George  Sand,  Liszt  and  the  Countess  d'Agoult, 
Wagner  and  Mathilde  —  a  voluminous  index 
might  be  made  of  the  classic  and  romantic  liaisons 
that  have  excited  curiosity  from  the  time  when 
the  memory  of  man  runneth  not  to  the  contrary 
down  to  yesteryear.  Although  Franz  Liszt,  great 
piano  virtuoso,  great  composer,  great  man,  has 
been  dead  since  1886,  and  the  Princess  Carolyne 
Sayn-Wittgenstein  since  1887,  volumes  are  still 
written  about  their  friendship.  Indeed,  in  any 
collection  of  letters  written  by  Liszt,  or  to  him, 
the  name  of  the  princess  is  bound  to  appear. 
She  was  the  veritable  muse  of  the  Hungarian, 

43 


FRANZ  LISZT 

and  when  her  influence  upon  him  as  a  composer 
is  considered  it  will  not  do  to  say,  as  many  crit- 
ics have  said,  that  she  was  a  stumbling-block  in 
his  career.     The  reverse  is  the  truth. 

The  most  recent  contributions  to  Liszt  lit- 
erature are  the  letters  between  Franz  Liszt  and 
Carl  Alexander,  Archduke  of  Weimar;  Aus  der 
Glanzzeit  der  Weimarer  Altenburg,  by  the  fe- 
cund La  Mara;  and  Franz  Liszt,  by  August  Goll- 
erich,  a  former  pupil  of  the  master.  To  this 
we  might  add  the  little-known  bundle  of  letters 
by  Adelheid  von  Schorn,  Franz  Liszt  et  la  Prin- 
cesse  de  Sayn-Wittgenstein,  (translated  into 
French),  a  perfect  mine  of  gossip.  Miss  von 
Schorn  remained  in  Weimar  after  the  princess 
left  the  Athens-on-the-Ilm  for  Rome  and  cor- 
responded with  her,  telling  of  Liszt's  doings, 
never  failing  to  record  new  flirtations  and  mak- 
ing herself  generally  useful  to  the  venerable  com- 
poser. When  attacked  by  his  last  illness  at  Col- 
pach,  where  he  had  gone  to  visit  Munkacszy, 
the  painter.  Miss  von  Schorn  went  to  Bayreuth 
to  look  after  him.  There,  at  the  door  of  his 
bed-chamber,  she  was  refused  admittance,  Mad- 
ame Cosima  Wagner,  through  a  servant,  telling 
her  that  the  daughter  and  grand-daughters  of 
Franz  Liszt  would  care  for  him.  The  truth  is 
that  Madame  Wagner  had  always  detested  the 
Princess  Wittgenstein  and  saw  in  the  Weimar 
lady  one  of  her  emissaries.  Miss  Von  Schorn 
left  Bayreuth  deeply  aggrieved.  After  Liszt's 
death  her  correspondence  with  the  princess  ab- 

44 


HIS  ART  AND   CHARACTER 

ruptly  ceased.  She  tells  all  this  in  her  book. 
Even  Liszt  had  shown  her  his  door  at  Weimar 
several  years  before  he  died.  He  detested 
gossips  and  geese,  he  often  declared. 

The  interest  displayed  by  the  world  artistic 
has  always  centred  about  the  episode  of  the  pro- 
jected marriage  between  the  princess  and  Liszt. 
A  dozen  versions  of  the  interrupted  ceremony 
have  been  printed.  Bayreuth,  which  never  loved 
Weimar  —  that  is,  the  Wagner  family  and  the 
Wittgenstein  faction  —  has  said  some  disagree- 
able things,  not  hesitating  to  insinuate  that  Liszt 
himself  was  more  pleased  than  otherwise  when 
Pope  Pius  IX  forbade  the  nuptials.  Liszt  biog- 
raphers side  with  their  idol  —  who  once  said  of 
his  former  son-in-law,  Hans  von  Biilow,  that  he 
had  no  talent  as  a  married  man.  He  might  have 
lived  to  repeat  the  epigram  if  he  had  married  the 
princess.  Decidedly,  Liszt  was  not  made  for 
stepping  in  double-harness. 

Liszt,  the  most  fascinating  pianist  in  Europe, 
had  been  the  most  pursued  male  on  the  Conti- 
nent, and  his  meeting  with  the  Princess  Sayn- 
Wittgenstein  at  Kieff,  Russia,  in  February,  1847, 
was  really  his  salvation.  He  was  then  about 
thirty-six  years  old,  in  all  the  glory  of  his  art  and 
of  his  extraordinary  virility.  The  princess,  who 
was  born  in  1819,  was  living  on  her  estate  at 
Woronice,  on  the  edge  of  the  Russian  steppes. 
She  was  nevertheless  of  Polish  blood,  the  daugh- 
ter of  Peter  von  Iwanowski,  a  rich  landowner, 
and  of  Pauline  Podoska,  an  original,  eccentric, 

45 


FRANZ  LISZT 

cultivated  woman  and  a  traveller.  In  1836  she 
married  the  Prince  Nikolaus  Sayn- Wittgenstein, 
a  Russian  millionaire  and  adjutant  to  the  Czar. 
It  was  from  the  first  a  miserable  failure,  this  mar- 
riage. The  bride,  intellectual,  sensitive,  full  of  the 
Polish  love  of  art,  above  all  of  music,  could  not 
long  endure  the  raw  dragoon,  dissipated  gam- 
bler and  hard  liver  into  whose  arms  she  had  been 
pushed  by  her  ambitious  father.  She  made  a  re- 
treat to  Woronice  with  her  infant  daughter  and 
spent  laborious  days  and  nights  in  the  study 
of  philosophy,  the  arts,  sciences,  and  religion. 
The  collision  of  two  such  natures  as  Carolyne 
and  Liszt  led  to  some  magnificent  romantic  and 
emotional  fireworks. 

We  learn  in  reading  the  newly  published  let- 
ters between  Liszt  and  the  Grand  Duke  Carl 
Alexander  of  Weimar  that  the  pianist  had  visit- 
ed Weimar  for  the  first  time  in  1841.  The  furore 
he  created  was  historic.  The  reigning  family  — 
doubtless  bored  to  death  in  the  charming,  placid 
little  city  —  welcomed  Liszt  as  a  distraction. 
The  Archduchess  Maria  PawloMia,  the  sister  of 
the  Czar  of  Russia  and  mother  of  the  later 
Kaiserin  Augusta,  admired  Liszt,  and  so  did  the 
Archduke  Carl.  He  was  covered  with  jewels 
and  orders.  The  upshot  was  that  after  a  visit 
in  1842  Liszt  was  invited  to  the  ofl&ce  of  General 
Music  Director  of  Weimar.  This  offer  he  ac- 
cepted and  in  1844  he  began  his  duties.  Carl 
Alexander  had  married  the  Princess  Sophie  of 
Holland,  and  therefore  Liszt  had  a  strong  party 

46 


HIS  ART  AND   CHARACTER 

in  his  favour  at  court.  That  he  needed  royal 
favour  will  be  seen  when  we  recall  that  in  1850  he 
produced  an  opera  by  a  banished  socialist,  one 
Richard  Wagner,  the  opera  Lohengrin.  He  al- 
so needed  court  protection  when  in  1848  he 
brought  to  Weimar  the  runaway  wife  of  Prince 
Wittgenstein.  The  lady  placed  herself  under 
the  friendly  wing  of  Archduchess  Maria  Pawlov- 
na,  who  interceded  in  vain  with  the  Czar  in  be- 
half of  an  abused,  unhappy  woman.  Nikolaus 
Wittgenstein  began  divorce  proceedings.  His 
wife  was  ordered  back  to  her  Woronice  estate  by 
imperial  decree.  She  refused  to  go  and  her  for- 
tune was  greatly  curtailed  by  confiscation.  She 
loved  Liszt.  She  saw  that  in  the  glitter  of  this 
roving  comet  there  was  the  stuff  out  of  which 
fixed  stars  are  fashioned,  and  she  lived  near  him 
at  Weimar  from  1848  to  1861. 

This  was  the  brilliant  period  of  musical  Wei- 
mar. The  illusion  that  the  times  of  Goethe  and 
Schiller  were  come  again  was  indulged  in  by  other 
than  sentimental  people.  Princess  Carolyne 
held  a  veritable  court  at  the  Altenburg,  a  large, 
roomy  so-called  palazzo  on  the  Jena  post-road, 
just  across  the  muddy  creek  they  call  the  River 
Ilm.  The  present  writer  when  he  last  visited 
Weimar  found  the  house  very  much  reduced  from 
its  former  glories.  It  looked  commonplace  and 
hardly  like  the  spot  where  Liszt  wrote  his  sym- 
phonic poems,  planned  new  musical  forms  and 
the  reformation  of  church  music;  where  came 
Berlioz,  Thackeray,  George  Eliot,  and  George 

47 


FRANZ  LISZT 

Henry  Lewes,  not  to  mention  a  number  of  dis- 
tinguished poets,  philosophers,  dramatists,  com- 
posers, and  aristocratic  folk.  Carolyne  corre- 
sponded with  all  the  great  men  of  her  day,  be- 
ginning with  Humboldt.  The  idea  of  the  Goethe 
Foundation  was  born  at  that  time.  It  was  a 
veritable  decade  of  golden  years  that  Weimar 
lived;  but  there  were  evidences  about  1858  that 
Liszt's  rule  was  weakening,  and  after  the  perform- 
ance of  his  pupil's  opera.  The  Barber  of  Bag- 
dad, by  Peter  Cornelius,  December  15,  1858, 
he  resigned  as  Kapellmeister.  Dinglested's  in- 
trigues hurt  his  unselfish  nature  and  a  single 
hiss  had  disturbed  him  into  a  resignation.  The 
daughter  of  Princess  Wittgenstein  married  in 
1859  Prince  Hohenlohe-Schillingsfiirst,  and  in 
1861  the  Altenburg  was  closed  and  the  prin- 
cess went  to  Rome  to  see  the  Pope. 

At  the  Vatican  the  princess  was  well  received. 
She  was  an  ardent  Catholic  and  was  known  to 
be  an  author  of  religious  works.  Pius  IX  bade 
her  arise  when  she  fell  weeping  at  his  feet  asking 
for  justice.  She  presented  her  case.  She  had 
been  delivered  into  matrimony  at  the  age  of  sev- 
enteen, knowing  nothing  of  life,  of  love,  of  her 
husband.  Wouldn't  his  Holiness  dissolve  the 
original  chains  so  that  she  could  marry  the  man  of 
her  election  ?  The  Pope  was  amiable.  He  knew 
and  admired  Liszt.  He  had  the  matter  investi- 
gated. After  all  it  was  an  enforced  marriage  to 
a  heretic,  this  odious  Wittgenstein  union;  and 
then  came  the  desired  permission.  Carolyne, 
48 


HIS   ART  AND   CHARACTER 

Princess  of  Sayn- Wittgenstein,  bom  Ivanovska, 
was  a  free  woman.  Delighted,  she  lost  no  time; 
Liszt  was  told  to  reach  Rome  by  the  evening  of 
October  21,  1861,  the  eve  of  his  fiftieth  birthday. 
The  ceremony  was  to  take  place  at  the  Church  of 
San  Carlo,  on  the  Corso,  at  6  A.  m.  of  October  22. 

What  really  happened  the  night  of  the  21st 
after  Liszt  arrived  no  one  truly  knows  but  the 
principals.  Lina  Ramann  tells  her  tale,  La 
Mara  hers,  Gollerich  his;  Eugen  Segnitz  in  his 
pamphlet,  Franz  Liszt  und  Rom,  has  a  very  con- 
servative account;  but  they  all  concur  if  not  in 
details  at  least  in  the  main  fact,  that  powerful, 
unknown  machinery  was  set  in  motion  at  the 
Vatican,  that  the  Holy  Father  had  rescinded 
his  permission  pending  a  renewed  examination 
of  the  case.  The  blow  fell  at  the  twelfth  hour. 
The  church  was  decorated  and  a  youth  asked  the 
reason  for  all  the  candles  and  bravery  of  the 
altars.  He  was  told  that  Princess  Wittgenstein 
was  to  marry  *'her  piano  player"  the  next  morn- 
ing. The  news  was  brought  by  the  boy  to  his 
father,  M.  Calm-Podoska,  a  cousin  of  Carolyne, 
who,  with  the  aid  of  Cardinal  Catarani  and  the 
Princess  Odescalchi,  begged  a  hearing  at  the 
Vatican.  Cardinal  Antonelli  sent  the  messenger 
bearing  the  fatal  information.  The  princess  was 
as  one  dead.  It  was  the  end  of  her  earthly 
ambitions. 

How  did  Liszt  bear  the  disappointment?  At 
this  juncture  the  fine  haze  of  legend  intervenes. 
His  daughter  Cosima  has  said  (in  a  number  of 

49 


FRANZ  LISZT 

the  Bayreuther  Blatter)  that  he  had  left  Weimar 
for  Rome  remarking  that  he  felt  as  if  going  to  a 
funeral.  Other  and  malicious  folk  have  pre- 
tended to  see  in  the  melodramatic  situation  the 
fine  Hungarian  hand  of  Liszt.  He  was  glad,  so 
it  was  averred,  to  get  rid  of  the  marriage  and  the 
princess  at  the  same  stroke  of  the  clock.  Had  she 
not  been  nicknamed  "Furstin  Hinter-Liszt"  be- 
cause of  the  way  she  followed  him  from  town  to 
town  when  he  was  giving  concerts?  But  Anto- 
nelli  was  a  friend  of  the  princess  as  well  as  an 
intimate  of  Liszt.  We  doubt  not  that  Liszt  came 
to  Rome  in  good  faith.  In  common  with  the 
princess  he  accepted  the  interruption  as  a  sign 
from  on  high,  and  even  when  in  1864  Prince  Witt- 
genstein died  the  marriage  idea  was  not  seriously 
revived.  Carolyne  asked  Liszt  to  devote  his 
genius  to  the  Church.  In  1865  he  assumed 
minor  orders  and  became  an  abbe. 

Pius  IX,  a  lover  of  music,  had  on  July  11, 
1863,  visited  Liszt  at  the  Dominican  cloister 
of  Monte  Mario,  and  to  the  Hungarian's  accom- 
paniment had  sung  in  his  sweet-toned  musical 
voice.  Liszt  was  called  his  Palestrina,  but  alas! 
in  the  churchly  music  of  Liszt  Rome  has  never 
betrayed  more  than  a  passing  interest;  and  to- 
day Pius  X  is  ultra- Gregorian.  Liszt,  like  a 
musical  Moses,  saw  the  promised  land  but  did 
not  enter  it. 

The  friendship  of  the  princess  and  Liszt  never 
abated.  He  divided  his  days  between  Weimar, 
Rome,  and  Budapest  (from  1876  in  the  latter 

50 


The  Princess  Sayn-Wittgenstein 


HIS  ART  AND   CHARACTER 

city),  and  she  wrote  tirelessly  in  Rome  books  on 
theology,  mysticism,  and  Church  history.  She 
was  a  great  and  generally  good  force  in  the  life 
of  Liszt,  who  was,  she  said,  a  lazy,  careless 
man,  though  he  left  over  thirteen  hundred  com- 
positions.    Women  are  insatiable. 


Ill 

LATER  BIOGRAPHERS 

The  future  bibliographer  of  Liszt  literature 
has  a  heavy  task  in  store  for  him,  for  books  about 
the  great  Hungarian  composer  are  multiplying 
apace.  Liszt  the  dazzling  virtuoso  has  long  been 
a  theme  with  variations,  and  is,  we  suspect,  a 
theme  nearly  exhausted;  but  Liszt  as  tone  poet, 
Liszt  as  song  writer,  as  composer  for  the  piano- 
forte, as  litterateur,  the  man,  the  wickedest  of 
Don  Juans,  the  ecclesiastic  —  these  and  a  dozen 
other  studies  of  the  most  protean  musician  of  the 
last  century  have  been  appearing  ever  since  the 
publication  of  Lina  Ramann's  vast  and  senti- 
mental biography.  Instead  of  there  being  a  lack 
of  material  for  a  new  book  there  is  an  embarrass- 
ment, not  always  of  riches,  from  industrious  pens, 
though  few  are  of  value.  The  Liszt  pupils  have 
had  their  say,  and  their  pupils  are  beginning  to 
intone  the  psalmody  of  uncritical  praise.  Liszt 
the  romantic,  magnificent,  magnanimous,  super- 
nal, is  set  to  the  same  old  harmonies,  until  the 
reader,  tired  of  the  gabble  and  gush,  longs  for  a 

51. 


FRANZ  LISZT 

biographer  who  will  riddle  the  various  legends 
and  once  and  for  all  prove  that  Liszt  was  not 
perfection,  even  if  he  was  the  fascinating  Ad- 
mirable Crichton  of  his  times. 

Yet,  and  the  fact  sets  us  wondering  over  the 
mutability  of  fame,  the  Liszt  propaganda  is  not 
flourishing.  Richard  Burmeister,  a  well  known 
pupil  and  admirer  of  the  master  in  Berlin  has 
assured  us  that  while  Liszt  is  heard  in  all 
the  concerts  in  Germany,  the  public  is  luke- 
warm; Richard  Strauss  is  more  eagerly  heard. 
Liszt's  familiar  remark,  "I  can  wait,"  provoked 
from  the  authority  above  mentioned  the  answer, 
"  Perhaps  he  has  waited  too  long."  We  are  in- 
clined to  disagree  with  this  dictum.  Liszt  once 
had  musical  and  unmusical  Europe  at  his  feet. 
His  success  was  called  comet-like,  probably  be- 
cause he  was  born  in  the  comet  year  1811,  also 
because  his  hair  was  long  and  his  technique  trans- 
cendentally  brilliant.  His  critical  compositions 
were  received  with  less  approval.  That  such 
an  artist  of  the  keyboard  could  be  also  a  suc- 
cessor to  Beethoven  was  an  idea  mocked  at  by 
the  conservative  Leipsic  school.  Besides,  he 
came  in  such  a  questionable  guise  as  a  Symphon- 
iker.  A  piano  concerto  with  a  triangle  in  the 
score  (the  E  flat),  compositions  for  full  orchestra 
which  were  called  symphonic  poems,  lyrics  with- 
out a  tune,  that  pretended  to  follow  the  curve  of 
the  words;  finally  church  music,  solemn  masses 
through  which  stalked  the  apparition  of  the 
haughty    Magyar    chieftain,    accompanied    by 

52 


HIS  ART  AND   CHARACTER 

echoes  of  the  gipsies  on  the  putzta  (the  Graner 
Mass) ;  it  was  too  much  for  ears  attuned  to  the 
suave,  melodious  Mendelssohn.  Indeed  the  en- 
tire Neo-German  school  was  too  exotic  for  Ger- 
many, Berlioz,  a  half  mad  Frenchman;  Rich- 
ard Wagner,  a  crazy  revolutionist,  a  fugitive  from 
Saxony;  and  the  Hungarian  Liszt,  half  French, 
wholly  diabolic  —  of  such  were  the  uncanny  in- 
gredients of  the  new  music.  And  then  were  there 
not  Liszt  and  his  Princess  Wittgenstein  at  Wei- 
mar, and  the  crew  of  pupils,  courtiers  and  Bo- 
hemians who  collected  at  the  Altenburg?  De- 
cidedly these  people  would  never  do,  even  though 
patronised  by  royalty.  George  Eliot  and  her 
man  Friday,  proper  British  persons,  were  rather 
shocked  when  they  visited  Weimar. 

Liszt  survived  it  all  and  enjoyed,  notwith- 
standing the  opposition  of  Ferdinand  Hiller, 
Joseph  Joachim,  the  Schumanns,  later  Brahms 
and  Hanslick,  the  pleasure  of  hearing  his  greater 
works  played,  understood,  and  applauded. 

Looking  backward  in  an  impartial  manner  it 
cannot  be  said  that  the  Liszt  compositions  have 
unduly  suffered  from  the  proverbial  neglect  of 
genius.  A  Liszt  orchestral  number,  if  not  im- 
perative, is  a  matter  of  course  at  most  symphony 
concerts.  The  piano  music  is  done  to  death, 
especially  the  Hungarian  Rhapsodies.  Liszt  has 
been  ranged;  the  indebtedness  of  modern  music 
to  his  pioneer  efforts  has  been  duly  credited. 
We  know  that  the  Faust  and  Dante  symphonies 
(which    might    have    been     called    symphonic 

53 


FRANZ  LISZT 

poems)  are  forerunners  not  only  of  much  of 
Wagner,  but  of  the  later  group  from  Saint-Saens 
to  Richard  Strauss.  Why,  then,  the  inevitable 
wail  from  the  Lisztians  that  the  Liszt  music  is 
not  heard?  Christus  and  the  other  oratorios 
and  the  masses  might  be  heard  oftener,  and 
there  are  many  of  the  sacred  compositions  yet 
unsung  that  would  make  some  critics  sit  up. 
No,  we  are  lovers  of  Liszt,  but  the  martyrdom 
motive  has  been  sounded  too  often.  In  a 
double  sense  a  reaction  is  bound  to  come. 
The  true  Liszt  is  beginning  to  emerge  from  the 
clouds  of  legend,  and  Liszt  the  composer  will 
be  definitely  placed.  A  little  disappointment 
will  result  in  both  camps;  the  camp  of  the  ultra- 
Liszt  worshippers,  which  sets  him  in  line  with 
Beethoven  and  above  Wagner,  and  the  camp  of 
the  anti-Lisztians,  which  refuses  him  even  the 
credit  of  having  written  a  bar  of  original  music. 
How  Wagner  would  have  rapped  the  knuckles 
of  these  latter;  how  he  would  have  told  them 
what  he  wrote  to  Liszt:  "Ich  bezeichne  dich 
als  Schopfer  meiner  jetzigen  Stellung.  Wenn 
ich  komponiere  und  instrumentiere  —  denke  ich 
immer  nur  an  dich  .  .  .  deine  drei  letzten  Parti- 
turen  sollen  mich  wieder  zum  Musiker  weihen 
fiir  den  Beginn  meines  zweiten  Aktes  [Sieg- 
fried], denn  dies  Studium  einleiten  soil." 

Did  Wagner  mean  it  all  ?  At  least,  he  couldn't 
deny  what  is  simply  a  matter  of  dates.  Liszt 
preceded  Wagner.  Otherwise  how  explain  that 
yawning  chasm  between  Lohengrin  and  Tris- 

54 


HIS  ART  AND   CHARACTER 

tan  ?  Liszt,  an  original  stylist  and  a  profounder 
musical  nature  than  Beriioz,  had  intervened. 
Nevertheless  Liszt  learned  much  from  Berlioz, 
and  it  is  quite  beside  the  mark  to  question 
the  greater  creative  power  of  Wagner  over  both 
the  Frenchman  and  the  Hungarian.  Wagner, 
Uike  the  Roman  conquerors,  annexed  many 
provinces  and  made  them  his  own.  Let  us  drop 
these  futile  comparisons.  Liszt  was  as  supreme 
in  his  domain  as  Wagner  in  his;  only  the  German 
had  the  more  popular  domain.  His  culture  was 
intensive,  that  of  Liszt  extensive.  The  tragedy 
was  that  Liszt  lived  to  hear  himself  denounced 
as  an  imitator  of  Wagner;  butchered  to  make  a 
Bayreuth  holiday.  The  day  after  his  death  in 
1886  the  news  went  abroad  in  Bayreuth  that  the 
"father-in-law  of  Wagner"  had  died;  that  his 
funeral  might  disturb  the  success  of  the  current 
music  festival!  Liszt,  who  had  begun  his  career 
with  a  kiss  from  Beethoven;  Liszt,  whose  name 
was  a  flaring  meteor  in  the  sky  of  music  when 
Wagner  was  starving  in  Paris;  Liszt  the  path- 
breaker,  meeting  the  usual  fate  of  such  a  Moses, 
who  never  conquered  the  soil  of  the  promised 
land,  the  initiator,  at  the  last  buried  in  foreign 
soil  (he  loathed  Bayreuth  and  the  Wagnerians) 
and  known  as  the  father-in-law  of  the  man  who 
eloped  with  his  daughter  and  had  borrowed  of 
him  everything  from  money  to  musical  ideas. 
The  gods  must  dearly  love  their  sport. 

The  new  books  devoted  to  Liszt,  his  life  and 
his  music,  are  by  Julius  Kapp,  August  Gollerich 

55 


FRANZ  LISZT 

(in  German),  Jean  Chantavoine  and  Calvocor- 
essi  (in  French),  and  A.  W.  Gottschalg's  Franz 
Liszt  in  Weimar,  a  diary  full  of  reminiscences. 
These  works,  ponderous  in  the  case  of  the  Ger- 
mans, represent  the  vanguard  of  the  literature 
that  is  due  the  anniversary  year.  To  M.  Chanta- 
voine may  be  awarded  the  merit  of  the  most  sym- 
metrically told  tale;  however,  he  need  not  have 
repeated  Janka  Wohl's  doubtful  mot  attributed 
to  Liszt  apropos  of  priestly  celibacy:  "Gregory 
VII  was  a  great  philanthropist."  This  reflects 
on  the  Princess  Wittgenstein,  and  Liszt,  most 
chivalric  of  men,  would  never  have  said  any- 
thing that  might  present  her  in  the  light  of  pur- 
suing him  with  matrimonial  designs.  That  she 
did  is  not  to  be  denied.  Dr.  Kapp  is  often 
severe  on  his  hero.  Is  any  man  ever  a  hero  to 
his  biographer  ?  He  does  not  glorify  his  subject, 
and  for  the  amiable  weakness  displayed  by  Liszt 
for  princesses  and  other  noble  dames  Dr.  Kapp 
is  sharp.  The  compositions  are  fairly  judged, 
neither  in  the  superlative  key,  nor  condescend- 
ingly, as  being  of  mere  historic  interest.  There 
are  over  thirteen  hundred,  of  which  about  four 
hundred  are  original.  Liszt  wrote  too  much,  al- 
though he  was  a  better  self -critic  than  was  Rubin- 
stein. New  details  of  the  quarrel  with  the 
Schumanns  are  given.  The  gifted  pair  do  not 
emerge  exactly  in  an  agreeable  light.  Liszt  it 
was  who  first  made  known  the  piano  music  of 
Robert  Schumann.  Clara  Schumann,  with  the 
true  Wieck  provinciality,  was  jealous  of  Liszt's 

56 


HIS  ART  AND   CHARACTER 

influence  over  Robert.  Then  came  the  disturb- 
ing spectre  of  Wagner,  and  Schumann  could  not 
forgive  Liszt  for  helping  the  music  of  the  future 
to  a  hearing  at  Weimar.  The  rift  widened. 
Liszt  made  a  joke  of  it,  but  he  was  hurt  by 
Schumann's  ingratitude.  Alas!  he  was  to  be 
later  hurt  by  Wagner,  by  Joachim,  by  Brahms. 
He  dedicated  his  B-minor  sonata  to  Schumann, 
and  Schumann  dedicated  to  him  his  noble  Fan- 
taisie  in  C.  After  Schumann's  death  his  widow 
brought  out  an  edition  of  this  fantaisie  with 
the  dedication  omitted.  The  old-fashioned  lady 
neither  forgot  nor  forgave. 

We  consider  the  Kapp  biography  solid.  The 
best  portrait  of  Liszt  may  be  found  in  that  clever 
and  amusing  novel  by  Von  Wolzogen,  Kraft- 
mayr.  The  Gollerich  book  chiefly  consists  of 
a  chain  of  anecdotes  in  which  the  author  is  a 
prominent  figure.  Herr  Kapp  in  a  footnote  at- 
tacks Herr  Gollerich,  denying  that  he  was  much 
with  Liszt.  How  these  Liszt  pupils  love  each 
other!  Joseffy  —  who  was  with  the  master  two 
summers  at  Weimar,  though  he  never  relinquished 
his  proud  title  of  Tausig  scholar  —  when  the 
younger  brilliant  stars  Rosenthal,  first  a  Joseffy 
pupil,  Sauer,  and  others  cynically  twitted  him 
about  his  admiration  of  Liszt's  playing  —  over 
seventy,  at  the  time  Rosenthal  was  with  him  — 
Joseffy  answered:  "He  was  the  unique  pianist." 
"  But  you  were  very  young  when  you  heard  him" 
(1869),  they  retorted.  "Yes,  and  Liszt  was  ten 
years  younger  too,"  replied  the  witty  Joseffy. 

57 


FRANZ  LISZT 

Gollerich  relates  the  story  of  the  American 
girl  who  threw  stones  at  the  window  of  the  Hoff- 
gartnerei,  Liszt's  residence  in  Weimar,  and  when 
the  master  appeared  above  called  out:  "I've 
come  all  the  way  from  America  to  hear  you  play." 
"Come  up,"  said  the  aged  magician,  "I'll  play 
for  you,"  He  did  so,  much  to  the  scandal  of 
the  Liszt  pupils  assembled  for  daily  worship. 
The  anecdotes  of  Tausig  and  the  stolen  score 
of  the  Faust  symphony  (Liszt  generously  stated 
that  the  score  was  overlooked),  are  also  set 
forth  in  the  Gollerich  book. 

But  he,  the  darling  of  the  gods,  fortune  fairly 
pursuing  him  from  cradle  to  grave,  nevertheless 
the  existence  of  this  genius  was  far  from  happy. 
His  closing  years  were  melancholy.  The  centre 
of  the  new  musical  life  and  beloved  by  all,  he 
was  a  lonely,  homeless,  disappointed  man.  His 
daughter  Cosima,  a  dweller  among  memories 
only,  said  that  the  music  of  her  father  did  not 
exist  for  her;  Weimar  had  been  swallowed  by 
Bayreuth,  and  the  crowning  sorrow  for  Liszt 
lovers  is  the  tomb  of  Liszt  at  Bayreuth.  It 
should  be  in  his  beloved  Weimar.  He  lies  in 
the  shadow  of  his  dear  friend  Wagner,  he,  the 
"father-in-law  of  Wagner."  Pascal  was  right; 
no  matter  the  comedy,  the  end  of  life  is  always 
tragic.  Perhaps  if  the  tragedy  had  come  to 
Franz  Liszt  earlier  he  might  have  profited  by 
the  uses  of  adversity,  as  did  Richard  Wagner, 
and  thus  have  achieved  the  very  stars. 


58 


Ill 

THE  B-MINOR  SONATA  AND 
OTHER  PIANO  PIECES 


When  Franz  Liszt  nearly  three  quarters  of  a 
century  ago  made  some  suggestions  to  the  Erard 
piano  manufacturers  on  the  score  of  increased 
sonority  in  their  instruments,  he  sounded  the 
tocsin  of  realism.  It  had  been  foreshadowed 
in  dementi's  Gradus,  and  its  intellectual  re- 
sultant, the  Beethoven  sonata,  but  the  material 
side  had  been  hardly  realised.  Chopin,  who 
sang  the  swan-song  of  idealism  in  surpassingly 
sweet  tones,  was  by  nature  unfitted  to  wrestle 
with  the  problem.  The  arpeggio  principle  had 
its  attractions  for  the  gifted  Pole,  who  used  it  in 
the  most  novel  combinations  and  dared  the  im- 
possible in  extended  harmonies.  But  the  rich 
glow  of  idealism  was  over  it  all  —  a  glow  not 
then  sicklied  by  the  impertinences  and  affecta- 
tions of  the  Herz-Parisian  school;  despite  the 
morbidities  and  occasional  dandyisms  of  Chop- 
in's style  he  was,  in  the  main,  manly  and  sincere. 
Thalberg,  who  pushed  to  its  limits  scale  playing 
and  made  an  embroidered  variant  the  end  and 

59 


FRANZ   LISZT 

not  a  means  of  piano  playing  —  Thalberg,  aris- 
tocratic and  rej&ned,  lacked  dramatic  blood. 
With  him  the  well-sounding  took  precedence  of 
the  eternal  verities  of  expression.  Touch,  tone, 
technique,  were  his  trinity  of  gods. 

Thalberg  was  not  the  path-breaker;  this  was 
left  for  that  dazzling  Hungarian  who  flashed  his 
scimitar  at  the  doors  of  Leipsic  and  drove  back 
cackling  to  their  nests  the  whole  brood  of  old 
women  professors  —  a  respectable  crowd,  which 
swore  by  the  letter  of  the  law  and  sniffed  at  the 
spirit.  Poverty,  chastity,  and  obedience  were  the 
obligatory  vows  insisted  upon  by  the  pedants  of 
Leipsic;  to  attain  this  triune  perfection  one 
had  to  become  poor  in  imagination,  obedient  to 
dull,  musty  precedent,  and  chaste  in  finger  exer- 
cises. What  wonder,  when  the  dashing  young 
fellow  from  Raiding  shouted  his  uncouth  chal- 
lenge to  ears  plugged  by  prejudice,  a  wail  went 
forth  and  the  beginning  of  the  end  seemed  at 
hand.  Thalberg  went  imder.  Chopin  never 
competed,  but  stood,  a  slightly  astonished  spec- 
tator, at  the  edge  of  the  fray.  He  saw  his  own 
gossamer  music  turned  into  a  weapon  of  offence; 
his  polonaises  were  so  many  cleaving  battle- 
axes,  and  perforce  he  had  to  confess  that  all  this 
carnage  of  tone  unnerved  him.  Liszt  was  the 
warrior,  not  he. 

Schumann  did  all  he  could  by  word  and  note, 

and  to-day,  thanks  to  Liszt  and  his  followers, 

any  other   style  of  piano  playing  would  seem 

old-fashioned.     Occasionally  an  idealist  like  the 

60 


THE   B-MINOR   SONATA 

unique  De  Pachmann  astonishes  us  by  his 
marvellous  play,  but  he  is  a  solitary  survivor 
of  a  once  powerful  school  and  not  the  repre- 
sentative of  an  existing  method.  There  is  no 
gainsaying  that  it  was  a  fascinating  style,  and 
modern  giants  of  the  keyboard  might  often 
pattern  with  advantage  after  the  rococoisms  of 
the  idealists;  but  as  a  school  pure  and  simple 
it  is  of  the  past.  We  moderns  are  as  eclectic 
as  the  Bolognese.  We  have  a  craze  for  selec- 
tion, for  variety,  for  adaptation;  hence  a  pianist 
of  to-day  must  include  many  styles  in  his  per- 
formance, but  the  keynote,  the  foundation,  is 
realism,  a  sometimes  harsh  realism  that  drives  to 
despair  the  apostles  of  the  beautiful  in  music  and 
often  forces  them  to  lingering  retrospection.  To 
all  is  not  given  the  power  to  summon  spirits  from 
the  vasty  deep,  and  thus  we  have  viewed  many 
times  the  mortifying  spectacle  of  a  Liszt  pupil 
staggering  about  under  the  mantle  of  his  master, 
a  world  too  heavy  for  his  attenuated  artistic 
frame.  With  all  this  the  path  was  blazed  by  the 
Magyar  and  we  may  now  explore  with  impunity 
its  once  trackless  region. 

Modern  piano  playing  differs  from  the  playing 
of  fifty  years  ago  principally  in  the  character  of 
touch  attack.  As  we  all  know,  the  hand,  fore- 
arm and  upper  arm  are  important  factors  now 
in  tone  production  where  formerly  the  finger- 
tips were  considered  the  prime  utility.  Triceps 
muscles  rule  the  big  tonal  effects  in  our  times. 
Liszt  discovered  their  value.  The  Viennese 
6i 


FRANZ  LISZT 

pianos  certainly  influenced  Mozart,  Cramer  and 
otiiers  in  their  styles;  just  as  Clemen ti  inaugura- 
ted his  reforms  by  writing  a  series  of  studies  and 
then  building  himself  a  piano  to  make  them  pos- 
sible of  performance.  With  variety  of  touch  — 
tone-colour  —  the  old  rapid  pearly  passage, 
withal  graceful  school  of  Vienna,  vanished;  it 
was  absorbed  by  the  new  technique.  Clementi, 
Beethoven,  Liszt,  Schumann,  forced  to  the  ut- 
most the  orchestral  development  of  the  piano. 
Power,  sonority,  dynamic  variety  and  novel 
manipulation  of  the  pedals,  combined  with  a 
technique  that  included  Bach  part  playing  and 
demanded  the  most  sensational  pyrotechnical 
flights  over  the  keyboard  —  these  were  a  few  of 
the  signs  of  the  new  school.  In  the  giddiness 
superinduced  by  indulging  in  this  heady  new 
wine  an  artistic  intoxication  ensued  that  was  for 
the  moment  harmful  to  a  pure  interpretation  of 
the  classics,  which  were  mangled  by  the  young 
vandals  who  had  enlisted  under  Liszt's  victor- 
ious standard.  Colour,  only  colour,  all  the  rest 
is  but  music!  was  the  motto  of  those  bold 
youths,  who  had  never  heard  of  Paul  Verlaine. 
But  time  has  mellowed  them,  robbed  their 
playing  of  its  too  dangerous  quality,  and  when  the 
last  of  the  Liszt  pupils  gives  his  —  or  her  —  last 
recital  we  may  wonder  at  the  charges  of  exag- 
gerated realism.  Indeed,  tempered  realism  is 
now  the  watchword.  The  flamboyancy  which 
grew  out  of  Tausig's  attempt  to  let  loose  the 
Wagnerian  Valkyrie  on  the  keyboard  has  been 
62 


THE  B -MINOR  SONATA 

toned  down  into  a  more  sober,  grateful  colouring. 
The  scarlet  waistcoat  of  the  Romantic  school  is 
outworn;  the  brutal  brilliancies  and  exaggerated 
orchestral  effects  of  the  realists  are  beginning  to 
be  regarded  with  suspicion.  We  comprehend 
the  possibilities  of  the  instrument  and  our  own 
aural  limitations.  Wagner  on  the  piano  is  ab- 
surd, just  as  absurd  as  were  Donizetti  and  Ros- 
sini. A  Liszt  operatic  transcription  is  as  nearly 
obsolete  as  a  Thalberg  paraphrase.  (Which 
should  you  prefer  hearing,  the  Norma  of  Thal- 
berg or  the  Lucia  of  Liszt  ?  Both  in  their  differ- 
ent ways  are  clever  but — outmoded.)  Bold  is 
the  man  to-day  who  plays  either  in  public. 

With  Alkan  the  old  virtuoso  technique  ends. 
The  nuance  is  ruler  now.  The  reign  of  noise 
is  past.  In  modern  music  sonority,  brilliancy 
are  present,  but  the  nuance  is  inevitable,  not 
alone  tonal  but  expressive  nuance.  Infinite 
shadings  are  to  be  heard  where  before  were  only 
piano,  forte,  and  mezzo-forte.  Chopin  and  Liszt 
and  Tausig  did  much  for  the  nuance;  Joseffy 
taught  America  the  nuance,  as  Rubinstein  re- 
vealed to  us  the  potency  of  his  golden  tones. 
"Pas  la  couleur,  rien  que  la  nuance,"  sang  Ver- 
laine;  and  without  nuance  the  piano  is  a  box  of 
wood,  wire  and  steel,  a  co&n  wherein  is  buried 
the  soul  of  music. 


63 


FRANZ  LISZT 


II 


"The  remembrance  of  his  playing  consoles 
me  for  being  no  longer  young."  This  sentence, 
charmingly  phrased,  as  it  is  charming  in  senti- 
ment, could  have  been  written  by  no  other  than 
Camille  Saint-Saens.  He  refers  to  Liszt,  and  he 
is  perhaps  better  qualified  to  speak  of  Liszt  than 
most  musicians  or  critics.  His  adoration  is  per- 
fectly comprehensible ;  to  him  Liszt  is  the  pro- 
tagonist of  the  school  that  threw  off  the  fetters 
of  the  classical  form  (only  to  hamper  itself  with 
the  extravagances  of  the  romantics).  They  all 
come  from  Berlioz,  the  violent  protestation  of 
Saint-Saens  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding. 
However  this  much  may  be  urged  in  the  favour 
of  the  Parisian  composer;  a  great  movement  like 
the  romantic  in  music,  painting,  and  literature 
simultaneously  appeared  in  a  half  dozen  coun- 
tries. It  was  in  the  air  and  evidently  catching. 
Goethe  summed  up  the  literary  revolution  in  his 
accustomed  Olympian  manner,  saying  to  Ecker- 
mann:  "They  all  come  from  Chateaubriand." 
This  is  sound  criticism;  for  in  the  writings  of  the 
author  of  Atala,  and  The  Genius  of  Christianity 
may  be  found  the  germ-plasm  of  all  the  later  ar- 
tistic disorder;  the  fierce  colour,  bizarrerie,  mor- 
bid extravagance,  introspective  analysis  —  which 
in  the  case  of  Amiel  touched  a  brooding  melan- 
choly. Stendhal  was  the  unwilling  forerunner 
of  the  movement  that  captivated  the  sensitive 

64 


THE   B-MINOR   SONATA 

imagination  of  Franz  Liszt,  as  it  later  undoubt- 
edly prompted  the  orphic  impulses  of  Richard 
Wagner. 

Saint-Saens  sets  great  store  on  Liszt's  orig- 
inal compositions,  and  I  am  sure  when  the  empty 
operatic  paraphrases  and  rhapsodies  are  forgot- 
ten the  true  Liszt  will  shine  the  brighter.  How 
tinkling  are  the  Hungarian  rhapsodies  —  now 
become  cafe  entertainment.  And  how  the  old 
bones  do  rattle.  We  smile  at  the  generation  that 
could  adore  The  Battle  of  Prague,  the  Herz 
Variations,  the  Kalkbrenner  Fantasias,  but  the 
next  generation  will  wonder  at  us  for  having  so 
long  tolerated  this  drunken  gipsy,  who  dances 
to  fiddle  and  cymbalom  accompaniment.  He 
is  too  loud  for  polite  nerves.  Technically,  the 
Liszt  arrangements  are  brilliant  and  effective 
for  dinner  music.  One  may  show  off  with  them, 
make  much  noise  and  a  reputation  for  virtuosity, 
that  would  be  quickly  shattered  if  a  Bach  fugue 
were  selected  as  a  text.  One  Chopin  Mazurka 
contains  more  music  than  all  of  the  rhapsodies, 
which  I  firmly  contend  are  but  overdressed  pre- 
tenders to  Magyar  blood.  Liszt's  pompous  in- 
troductions, spun-out  scales,  and  transcendental 
technical  feats  are  not  precisely  in  key  with  the 
native  wood-note  wild  of  genuine  Hungarian  folk- 
music.  A  visit  to  Hungary  will  prove  this  state- 
ment. Gustav  Mahler  was  right  in  affirming 
that  too  much  gipsy  has  blurred  the  outlines  of 
real  Magyar  music. 

I  need  not  speak  of  Liszt's  admirable  tran- 

6S 


FRANZ  LISZT 

scriptions  of  songs  by  Schubert,  Schumann, 
Franz,  Mendelssohn,  and  others;  they  served 
their  purpose  in  making  publicly  known  these 
compositions  and  are  witnesses  to  the  man's 
geniality,  cleverness  and  charm.  I  wish  only  to 
speak  of  the  compositions  for  solo  piano  com- 
posed by  Liszt  Ferencz  of  Raiding,  Hungaria. 
Many  I  salute  with  the  eljen!  of  patriotic  enthu- 
siasm, and  I  particularly  delight  in  quizzing  the 
Liszt-rhapsody  fanatic  as  to  his  knowledge  of 
the  Etudes  —  those  wonderful  continuations  of 
the  Chopin  studies  —  of  his  acquaintance  with 
the  Annees  de  Pelerinage,  of  the  Valse  Oubliee, 
of  the  Valse  Impromptu,  of  the  Sonnets  after 
Petrarch,  of  the  Nocturnes,  of  the  F-sharp  Im- 
promptu of  Ab-Irato  —  that  etude  of  which  most 
pianists  never  heard;  of  the  Apparitions,  the 
Legends,  the  Ballades,  the  brilliant  Mazurka, 
the  Elegier,  the  Harmonies  Pestiques  et  Re- 
ligieuses,  or  the  Concerto  Patetico  a  la  Bur- 
meister,  and  of  numerous  other  pieces  that  con- 
tain enough  music  to  float  into  glory  —  as  Philip 
Hale  would  say  —  a  dozen  composers  in  this 
decade  of  the  new  century,  [It  was  Max  Ben- 
dix  who  so  wittily  characterised  the  A-major  con- 
certo as  "Donizetti  with  Orchestra."  Liszt  was 
very  often  Italianate.] 

The  eminently  pianistic  quality  of  Liszt's  orig- 
inal music  commends  it  to  every  pianist.  Joseffy 
once  said  that  the  B-minor  sonata  was  one  of 
those  compositions  that  plays  itself,  it  lies  so 
beautifully  for  the  hand.    For  me  no  work  of 

66 


THE  B-MINOR  SONATA 

-Liszt  with  the  possible  exception  of  the  studies, 
is  as  interesting  as  this  same  fantaisie  that  mas- 
querades as  a  sonata  in  H  moll.  Agreeing  with 
those  who  declare  that  they  find  few  traces  of  the 
sonata  form  in  the  structure  of  this  composi- 
tion, and  also  with  those  critics  who  assert  the 
word  to  be  an  organic  amplification  of  the  old, 
obsolete  form,  and  that  Liszt  has  taken  Bee- 
thoven's last  sonata  period  as  a  starting-point 
and  made  a  plunge  into  futurity  —  agreeing  with 
these  warring  factions,  thereby  choking  off  the 
contingency  of  a  spirited  argument,  I  repeat  that  I 
find  the  B  minor  of  Liszt  truly  fascinating  music. 
What  a  tremendously  dramatic  work  it  is!  It 
stirs  the  blood.  It  is  intense.  It  is  complex. 
The  opening  bars  are  truly  Lisztian.  The  gloom, 
the  harmonic  haze,  from  which  emerges  that  bold 
theme  in  octaves  (the  descending  octaves  Wagner 
recalled  when  he  wrote  his  Wotan  theme);  the 
leap  from  the  G  to  the  A  sharp  below  —  how 
Liszt  has  made  this  and  the  succeeding  intervals 
his  own.  Power  there  is,  sardonic  power,  as  in 
the  opening  phrase  of  the  E-flat  piano  concerto, 
so  cynically  mocking.  How  incisively  the  com- 
poser traps  your  consciousness  in  the  next  theme 
of  the  sonata,  with  its  four  knocking  D's.  What 
follows  is  like  a  drama  enacted  in  the  nether- 
world. Is  there  a  composer  who  paints  the  in- 
fernal, the  macabre,  with  more  suggestive  real- 
ism than  Liszt  ?  Berlioz  possessed  the  gift  above 
all,  except  Liszt;  Raff  can  compass  the  grisly, 
and  also  Saint-Saens;  but  thin  sharp  flames  hover 

67 


FRANZ  LISZT 

about  the  brass,  wood  and  shrieking  strings  in 
the  Lisztian  orchestra. 

The  chorale,  usually  the  meat  of  a  Liszt  com- 
position, now  appears  and  proclaims  the  religious 
belief  of  the  composer  in  dogmatic  accents,  and 
our  convictions  are  swept  along  until  after  that 
outburst  in  C  major,  when  follows  the  insincerity 
of  it  in  the  harmonic  sequences.  Here  it  surely  is 
not  a  whole-heart  belief  but  only  a  theatrical  at- 
titudinising; after  the  faint  return  of  the  opening 
motive  is  heard  the  sigh  of  sentiment,  of  passion, 
of  abandonment,  which  engender  the  suspicion 
that  when  Liszt  was  not  kneeling  before  a  cruci- 
fix he  was  to  a  woman.  He  blends  piety  and 
passion  in  the  most  mystically  amorous  fashion; 
with  the  cantando  expressive  in  D,  begins  some 
lovely  music,  secular  in  spirit,  mayhap  intended 
by  its  creator  for  reredos  and  pyx. 

But  the  rustle  of  silken  attire  is  back  of  every 
bar;  sensuous  imagery,  a  faint  perfume  of  fem- 
ininity lurks  in  each  cadence  and  trill.  Ah! 
naughty  Abbe  have  a  care.  After  all  thy  ton- 
sures and  chorales,  thy  credos  and  sackcloth, 
wilt  thou  admit  the  Evil  One  in  the  guise  of  a 
melody,  in  whose  chromatic  intervals  lie  dimpled 
cheek  and  sunny  tress!  Wilt  thou  allow  her  to 
make  away  with  spiritual  resolutions!  Vade, 
retro  me  Sathanas!  And  behold  it  is  accom- 
plished. The  bold  theme  so  eloquently  pro- 
claimed at  the  outset  is  solemnly  sounded  with 
choric  pomp  and  power.  Then  the  hue  and  cry 
of  diminished  sevenths  begins,  and  this  tonal 
68 


THE  B-MINOR  SONATA 

panorama  with  its  swirl  of  intoxicating  colours 
moves  kaleidoscopically  onward.  Again  the 
devil  tempts  the  musical  St.  Anthony,  this  time 
in  octaves  and  in  A  major;  he  momentarily  suc- 
cumbs, but  that  good  old  family  chorale  is  re- 
peated, and  even  if  its  orthodoxy  is  faulty  in  spots 
it  serves  its  purpose;  the  Evil  One  is  routed  and 
early  piety  breaks  forth  in  an  alarming  fugue 
which,  like  that  domestic  ailment,  is  happily 
short-winded.  Another  flank  movement  of  the 
"ewig  Weibliche,"  this  time  in  the  seductive 
key  of  B  major,  made  mock  of  by  the  strong  man 
of  music  who,  in  the  stretta  quasi  presto,  views 
his  early  disorder  with  grim  and  contrapuntal 
glee.  He  shakes  it  from  him,  and  in  the  triolen 
of  the  bass  frames  it  as  a  picture  to  weep  or  rage 
over. 

All  this  leads  to  a  prestissimo  finale  of  start- 
ling splendour.  Nothing  more  exciting  is  there  in 
the  literature  of  the  piano.  It  is  brilliantly  cap- 
tivating, and  Liszt  the  Magnificent  is  stamped 
on  every  bar.  What  gorgeous  swing,  and  how 
the  very  bases  of  the  earth  seem  to  tremble 
at  the  sledge-hammer  blows  from  the  cyclopean 
fist  of  this  musical  Attila.  Then  follow  a  few 
bars  of  that  Beethoven-like  andante,  a  moving 
return  to  the  early  themes,  and  softly  the  first 
lento  descends  to  the  subterranean  caverns 
whence  it  emerged,  a  Magyar  Wotan  majes- 
tically vanishing  into  the  bowels  of  a  Gehenna; 
then  a  true  Liszt  chord-sequence  and  a  still- 
ness in  B  major.  The  sonata  in  B  minor  dis- 
69 


FRANZ  LISZT 

plays  all  of  Liszt's  power  and  weakness.  It  is 
rhapsodic,  it  is  too  long  —  infernal,  not  "  heaven- 
ly lengths" —  it  is  full  of  nobility,  a  drastic  intel- 
lectuality, and  a  sonorous  brilliancy.  To  deny  it 
a  commanding  position  in  the  pantheon  of  piano 
music  would  be  folly.  And  interpreted  by  an 
artist  versed  in  the  Liszt  traditions,  such  as 
Arthur  Friedheim,  this  work  compasses  at  times 
the  sublime. 

It  is  not  my  intention  to  claim  your  attention 
for  the  remainder  of  the  original  compositions; 
that  were  indeed  a  terrible  strain  on  your  patience. 
In  the  Annees  de  Pelerinage,  redolent  of  Ver- 
gilian  meadows,  soft  summer  airs  shimmering 
through  every  bar,  what  is  more  delicious  except 
Au  Bord  d'une  Source?  Is  the  latter  not  ex- 
quisitely idyllic?  Surely  in  those  years  of  pil- 
grimage through  Switzerland,  Italy,  France,  Liszt 
garnered  much  that  was  good  and  beautiful  and 
without  the  taint  of  the  salon  or  concert  plat- 
form. The  two  Polonaises  recapture  the  heroic 
and  sorrowing  spirit  of  Sarmatia.  The  first  in  E 
is  a  perennial  favourite;  I  always  hear  its  martial 
theme  as  a  pattern  reversed  of  the  first  theme  in 
the  A-flat  Polonaise  of  Chopin.  But  the  second 
Liszt  Polonaise  in  C  minor  is  the  more  poetic  of 
the  pair;  possibly  that  is  the  reason  why  it  is  so 
seldom  played. 

Away  from  the  glare  of  gaslight  this  extraordi- 
nary Hungarian  aspired  after  the  noblest  things. 
In  the  atmosphere  of  the  salons,  of  the  Papal 
court,  and  concert  room,  Liszt  was  hardly  so 
70 


THE  B-MINOR  SONATA 

admirable  a  character.  I  know  of  certain  cries 
calling  to  heaven  to  witness  that  he  was  anointed 
of  the  Lord  (which  he  was  not);  that  if  he  had 
cut  and  run  to  sanctuary  to  escape  two  or  more 
women  we  might  never  have  heard  of  Liszt  the 
Abbe.  One  penalty  undergone  by  genius  is  its 
pursuit  by  gibes  and  glossaries.  Liszt  was  no 
exception  to  this  rule.  Like  Ibsen  and  Maeter- 
linck he  has  had  many  things  read  into  his  music, 
mysticism  not  forgotten.  Perhaps  the  best  es- 
timate of  him  is  the  purely  human  one.  He 
was  made  up  of  the  usual  pleasing  and  unpleas- 
ing  compound  of  faults  and  virtues,  as  is  any 
great  man,  not  born  of  a  book. 

The  Mephisto  Valse  from  Lenau's  Faust,  in 
addition  to  its  biting  broad  humour  and  satanic 
suggestiveness,  contains  one  of  the  most  volup- 
tuous episodes  outside  of  the  Tristan  score.  That 
halting,  languourous,  syncopated,  theme  in  D 
flat  is  marvellously  expressive,  and  the  poco  alle- 
gretto seems  to  have  struck  the  fancy  of  Wag- 
ner, who  did  not  hesitate  to  appropriate  motives 
from  his  esteemed  father-in-law  when  the  desire 
overtook  him.  He  certainly  considered  Kundry 
Liszt-wise  before  fabricating  her  scream  in  Par- 
sifal. 

Liszt's  life  was  a  sequence  of  triumphs,  his 
sympathies  were  almost  boundless,  yet  he  found 
time  to  work  unfalteringly  and  despite  myriad 
temptations  his  spiritual  nature  was  never  wholly 
submerged.  I  wish,  however,  that  he  had  not 
invented  the  piano  recital  and  the  Liszt  pupil. 

71 


FRANZ  LISZT 


III 


I  possess,  and  value  as  a  curiosity,  a  copy 
of  Liszt's  Etudes,  Opus  I.  The  edition  is  rare 
and  the  plates  have  been  destroyed.  Written 
when  Liszt  was  fresh  from  the  tutelage  of  Carl 
Czerny,  they  show  decided  traces  of  his  schooling. 
They  are  not  difl5cult  for  fingers  inured  to  mod- 
em methods.  When  I  first  bought  them  I  knew 
not  the  Etudes  d' Execution  Transcendentale,  and 
when  I  encountered  the  latter  I  exclaimed  at  the 
composer's  cleverness.  The  Hungarian  has 
taken  his  opus  I  and  dressed  it  up  in  the  most 
bewildering  technical  fashion.  He  gave  these 
studies  appropriate  names,  and  even  to-day  they 
require  a  tremendous  technique  to  do  them  jus- 
tice. The  most  remarkable  of  the  set  —  the  one 
in  F  minor  No.  lo  —  Liszt  left  nameless,  and 
like  a  peak  it  rears  its  head  skyward,  while  about 
it  cluster  its  more  graceful  fellows:  Ricordanza, 
Feux-follets,  Harmonies  du  Soir  (Chasse-neige, 
and  Paysage).  The  Mazeppa  is  a  symphonic 
poem  in  miniature.  What  a  superb  contribu- 
tion to  piano  literature  is  Liszt's.  These  twelve 
incomparable  studies,  the  three  effective  Etudes 
de  Concert  (several  quite  Chopinish  in  style  and 
technique),  the  murmuring  Waldesrauschen,  the 
sparkling  Gnomenreigen,  the  stormy  Ab-Irato, 
the  poetic  Au  Lac  de  Wallenstadt  and  Au  Bord 
d'une  Source,  have  they  not  all  tremendously 
developed  the  technical  resources  of  the  instru- 
72 


THE  B-MINOR  SONATA 

ment  ?  And  to  play  them  one  must  have  fingers 
of  steel,  a  brain  on  fire,  a  heart  bubbling  with 
chivalric  force;  what  a  comet-like  pianist  he  was, 
this  Magyar,  who  swept  European  skies,  who 
transformed  the  still  small  voice  of  Chopin  into 
a  veritable  hurricane.  Nevertheless,  we  cannot 
imagine  a  Liszt  without  a  Chopin  preceding  him. 

But,  Liszt  lost,  the  piano  would  lose  its  most 
dashing  cavalier;  while  his  freedom,  fantasy,  and 
fire  are  admirable  correctives  of  the  platitudes 
of  the  Hummel- Czerny-Mendelssohn  school. 
Liszt  won  from  his  instrument  an  orchestral  qual- 
ity. He  advanced  by  great  wing-strokes  toward 
perfection,  and  deprived  of  his  music  we  should 
miss  colour,  sonority,  richness  of  tinting,  and 
dramatic  and  dynamic  contrasts.  He  has  had  a 
great  following.  Tausig  was  the  first  to  feel  his 
influence,  and  if  he  had  lived  longer  would  have 
beaten  out  a  personal  style  of  his  own.  Of  the 
two  we  prefer  Liszt's  version  of  the  Paganini 
studies  to  Schumann's.  The  Campanella  is  a 
favourite  of  well  equipped  virtuosi. 

In  my  study  of  Chopin  reference  is  made  to 
Chopin's  obligations  to  Liszt.  I  prefer  now  to 
quote  a  famous  authority  on  the  subject,  no  less  a 
critic  than  Professor  Frederick  Niecks,  whose 
biography  of  Chopin  is,  thus  far,  the  superior  of 
all.  He  writes:  "As  at  one  time  all  ameliora- 
tions in  the  theory  and  practice  of  music  were 
ascribed  to  Guido  of  Arezzo,  so  it  is  nowadays  the 
fashion  to  ascribe  all  improvements  and  exten- 
sions of  the  pianoforte  technique  to  Liszt,  who, 

73 


FRANZ  LISZT 

more  than  any  other  pianist,  drew  upon  himself 
the  admiration  of  the  world,  and  though  his 
pupils  continued  to  make  his  presence  felt  even 
after  the  close  of  his  career  as  a  virtuoso.  But 
the  cause  of  this  false  opinion  is  to  be  sought  not 
so  much  in  the  fact  that  the  brilliancy  of  his 
artistic  personality  threw  all  his  contemporaries 
into  the  shade,  as  in  that  other  fact,  that  he 
gathered  up  into  one  web  the  many  threads  new 
and  old  which  he  found  floating  about  during 
the  years  of  his  development.  The  difference 
between  Liszt  and  Chopin  lies  in  this,  that  the 
basis  of  the  former's  art  is  universality,  that  of 
the  latter's,  individuality.  Of  the  fingering  of 
the  one  we  may  say  that  it  is  a  system,  of  that 
of  the  other  that  it  is  a  manner.  Probably  we 
have  here  also  touched  on  the  cause  of  Liszt's 
success  and  Chopin's  want  of  success  as  a 
teacher." 

Niecks  does  not  deny  that  Liszt  influenced 
Chopin.  In  volume  I  of  his  Frederick  Chopin, 
he  declares  that  "  The  artist  who  contributed  the 
largest  quotum  of  force  to  this  impulse  was 
probably  Liszt,  whose  fiery  passions  indomitable 
energy,  soaring  enthusiasm,  universal  tastes  and 
capacity  of  assimilation,  mark  him  out  as  the 
opposite  of  Chopin.  But,  although  the  latter 
was  undoubtedly  stimulated  by  Liszt's  style  of 
playing  the  piano  and  of  writing  for  this  instru- 
ment, it  is  not  so  certain  as  Miss  L.  Ramann, 
Liszt's  biographer,  thinks,  that  this  master's  in- 
fluence can  be  discovered  in  many  passages  of 

74 


THE   B-MINOR   SONATA 

Chopin's  music  which  are  distinguished  by  a 
fiery  and  passionate  expression,  and  resemble 
rather  a  strong,  swelling  torrent  than  a  gently 
gliding  rivulet.  She  instances  Nos.  9  and  12  of 
Douze  Etudes,  Op.  10;  Nos.  11  and  12  of 
Douze  Etudes,  Op.  25;  No.  24  of  Vingt  Quatre 
Preludes,  Op.  28;  Premier  Scherzo,  Op.  20; 
Polonaise  in  A-flat  Major,  Op.  32.  All  these 
compositions,  we  are  told,  exhibit  Liszt's  style 
and  mode  of  feeling.  Now  the  works  composed 
by  Chopin  before  he  came  to  Paris  and  got  ac- 
quainted with  Liszt,  comprise  not  only  a  sonata, 
a  trio,  two  concertos,  variations,  polonaises, 
waltzes,  mazurkas,  one  or  more  nocturnes,  etc., 
but  also  —  and  this  is  for  the  question  under 
consideration  of  great  importance  —  most  of,  if 
not  all,  the  studies  of  Op.  10  (Sowinski  says  that 
Chopin  brought  with  him  to  Paris  the  MS.  of 
the  first  book  of  his  studies)  and  some  of  Op.  25; 
and  these  works  prove  decisively  the  inconclu- 
siveness  of  the  lady's  argument.  The  twelfth 
study  of  Opus  10  (composed  in  September,  1831) 
invalidates  all  she  says  about  fire,  passion,  and 
rushing  torrents.  In  fact,  no  cogent  reason  can 
be  given  why  the  works  mentioned  by  her  should 
not  be  the  outcome  of  unaided  development. 
[That  is  to  say,  development  not  aided  in  the  way 
indicated  by  Miss  Ramann.]  The  first  Scherzo 
alone  might  make  us  pause  and  ask  whether  the 
new  features  that  present  themselves  in  it  ought 
not  to  be  fathered  on  Liszt.  But  seeing  that 
Chopin  evolved  so  much,  why  should  he  not  also 

75 


FRANZ  LISZT 

have  evolved  this  ?  Moreover,  we  must  keep  in 
mind  that  Liszt  had,  up  to  1831,  composed  al- 
most nothing  of  what  in  after  years  was  consid- 
ered either  by  him  or  others  of  much  moment, 
and  that  his  pianoforte  style  had  first  to  pass 
through  the  state  of  fermentation  into  which 
Paganini's  playing  had  precipitated  it  (in  the 
spring  of  1831)  before  it  was  formed;  on  the 
other  hand,  Chopin  arrived  in  Paris  with  his 
portfolios  full  of  masterpieces,  and  in  possession 
of  a  style  of  his  own  as  a  player  of  his  instrument 
as  well  as  a  writer  for  it.  That  both  learned  from 
each  other  cannot  be  doubted;  but  the  exact 
gain  of  each  is  less  easily  determinable.  Never- 
theless, I  think  I  may  venture  to  assert  that  what- 
ever may  be  the  extent  of  Chopin's  indebtedness 
to  Liszt,  the  latter's  indebtedness  to  the  former 
is  greater.  The  tracing  of  an  influence  in  the 
works  of  a  man  of  genius,  who,  of  course,  neither 
slavishly  imitates  nor  flagrantly  appropriates,  is 
one  of  the  most  difficult  tasks.  If  Miss  Ramann 
had  first  noted  the  works  produced  by  the  two 
composers  in  question  before  their  acquaintance 
began,  and  had  carefully  examined  Chopin's 
early  productions  with  a  view  to  ascertain  his 
capability  of  growth,  she  would  have  come  to  an- 
other conclusion,  or,  at  least  have  spoken  less 
confidently." 

To  the  above  no  exception  may  be  taken  ex- 
cept the  reference  to  the  B-minor  Scherzo  as 
possibly  having  been  suggested  by  Liszt.     For 
me  it  is  most  characteristic  of  Chopin  in  its  per- 
76 


THE  B-MINOR  SONATA 

verse,  even  morbid,  ironical  humour,  its  original 
figuration;  who  but  Chopin  could  have  conceived 
that  lyrical  episode!  Liszt,  doubtless,  was  the 
first  who  introduced  interlocking  octaves  instead 
of  the  chromatic  scale  at  the  close;  Tausig  fol- 
lowed his  example.  But  there  the  matter  ended. 
Once  when  Chopin  heard  that  Liszt  intended  to 
write  an  account  of  his  concerts  for  the  Gazette 
Musicale,  he  said:  "He  will  give  me  a  little  king- 
dom in  his  empire."  This  remark  casts  much 
illumination  on  the  relations  of  the  two  men. 
Liszt  was  the  broader  minded  of  the  two;  Chopin, 
as  Niecks  points  out,  forgave  but  never  forgot. 


77 


IV 
AT  ROME,  WEIMAR,  BUDAPEST 

I 

ROME 

The  Roman  candle  has  attracted  many  spir- 
itual moths.  Goethe,  Humboldt,  Platen,  Winck- 
elmann,  Thorwaldsen,  Gregorovius  and  Liszt  — 
to  mention  only  the  first  at  hand  —  fluttered  to 
Rome  and  ascribe  to  it  much  of  their  finer  pro- 
ductivity. For  Franz  Liszt  it  was  a  loadstone 
of  double  power  —  the  ideality  of  the  place  at- 
tracted him  and  its  religion  anchored  his  spir- 
itual restlessness. 

Liszt  liked  a  broad  soul-margin  to  his  life. 
Heine  touched  on  this  side  of  Liszt's  character 
when  he  wrote  of  him:  "Speculation  has  the 
greatest  fascination  for  him;  and  still  more  than 
with  the  interests  of  his  art  is  he  engrossed  with 
all  manner  of  rival  philosophical  investigations 
which  are  occupied  with  the  solution  of  all  great 
questions  of  heaven  and  earth.  For  long  he 
was  an  ardent  upholder  of  the  beautiful  Saint- 
Simonian  idea  of  the  world.  Later  the  spiritual- 
istic or  rather  vaporous  thoughts  of  Ballanche 
enveloped  him  in  their  midst;  now  he  is  enthusi- 

78 


AT   ROME,   WEIMAR,   BUDAPEST 

astic  over  the  Republican-Catholic  dogmas  of  a 
Lamennais  who  has  hoisted  his  Jacobin  cap  on 
the  cross  .  .  .  Heaven  knows  in  what  mental 
stall  he  will  find  his  next  hobby-horse!"  This 
was  written  in  1837,  and  only  two  years  after- 
ward Liszt  paid  his  first  visit  to  Rome. 

Based  on  letters  and  diaries  of  Liszt,  Grego- 
rovius.  Ad.  Stahr,  Fanny  Lewald,  W.  Allmers, 
Cardinal  Wiseman,  Jul.  Schnorr  von  Carols- 
feld,  and  Eugen  Segnitz,  a  study  of  Franz  Liszt 
in  Rome  may  be  made. 

The  time  spent  in  the  Eternal  City  was  un- 
questionably an  important  one  in  Liszt's  life 
and  worthy  of  the  detailed  attention  given  it. 
Rome  in  1839  presented  a  contradictory  picture. 
Contrasted  to  the  pomp  of  the  Vatican  were  the 
unprincipled  conditions  of  the  city  itself.  Bands 
of  robbers  infested  it  and  the  surroundings,  mak- 
ing it  as  unsafe  as  an  English  highway  during 
the  glorious  but  rather  frisky  times  of  Jonathan 
Wild  and  his  agile  confreres.  So,  for  instance, 
Massocia  and  his  band  kidnapped  the  pupils 
of  the  seminary  in  Albano,  and  when  the  de- 
manded ransom  was  not  forthcoming  defiantly 
strung  up  these  innocents  on  trees  flanking  the 
gateways  of  Rome.  So,  too,  the  political  free- 
dom of  the  city  found  a  concession  in  the  priv- 
ilege of  Cardinal  Consalvi,  who  permitted  for- 
eign papers  of  every  political  party  to  be  read 
openly;  while  the  papal  edict  declared  null  and 
void  all  contracts  closed  between  Christian  and 
Hebrew. 

79 


FRANZ  LISZT 

In  matters  of  art  things  were  not  much 
better.  The  censor  swung  his  axe  in  a  most  ir- 
responsible and,  now  to  us,  laughable  manner. 
Overbeck's  Holy  Family  was  condemned  be- 
cause the  feet  of  the  Madonna  in  it  were  too 
bare;  Thorwaldsen's  Day  and  Night  was  of- 
fensive in  its  nudeness;  Raphael's  art  was  an 
eyesore,  and  the  same  discriminating  mind, 
Padre  Piazza,  would  have  liked  to  consign  to 
the  flames  all   philosophical  books. 

The  musical  taste  and  standard  was  not  el- 
evating at  this  time.  Piccini,  Paisiello,  Cima- 
rosa,  Sacchini,  Anfossi,  Sarti,  Righini,  Paer,  and 
Rossini  wrote  purely  for  the  sensual  enjoyment 
of  the  people. 

Even  the  behaviour  of  the  masses  in  theatres 
was  defined  by  an  edict  issued  by  Leo  XII. 
Any  poor  devil  caught  wearing  his  hat  in  the 
theatre  was  shown  the  door;  if  an  actor  inter- 
polated either  gesture  or  word  not  provided  for 
in  the  prompt-book  he  was  sent  to  the  galleys 
for  five  years;  the  carrying  of  weapons  in  places 
of  amusement  was  punishable  with  life  sentence 
in  the  galleys,  and  wounding  another  during  a 
row  earned  a  death  verdict  for  the  unfortunate 
one;  applause  and  hisses  were  rewarded  by  a 
prison  term  from  two  months  to  half  a  year. 

Liszt's  first  visit  to  Rome  occurred  in  1839, 
and  in  company  with  the  Countess  d'Agoult. 
A  strange  mating  this  had  been.  Her  salon 
was  the  meeting-place  where  enthusiastic  persons 
foregathered  —  aesthetes,  artists,  and  politicians. 

80 


% 


Countess  Marie  d'Agoult 


AT  ROME,   WEIMAR,   BUDAPEST 

Liszt  became  a  member  of  this  circle,  and  the 
impressionable  young  man  of  twenty-three  was 
as  so  much  wax  in  the  hands  of  this  sensation- 
mongering  woman  six  years  his  senior.  Against 
Liszt's  wishes  she  had  followed  him  to  Berne, 
and  there  is  plenty  of  evidence  at  hand  that  he 
assumed  the  inevitable  responsibilities  with  good 
grace  and  treated  her  as  his  wife,  but  evidently 
not  entirely  to  her  satisfaction.  She  fancied  her- 
self the  muse  of  the  young  genius;  but  the  wings 
of  the  young  eagle  she  had  patronized  soon  out- 
stripped her. 

Their  years  of  wandering  were  noteworthy. 
From  Paris  to  Berne  and  Geneva;  then  two 
trips  back  to  Paris,  where  Liszt  fought  his  key- 
board duel  with  Thalberg.  They  rested  awhile 
at  Nohant.  entertained  by  George  Sand,  which 
they  forsook  for  Lake  Como,  some  flying  trips 
to  Milan  and  eventually  Venice.  It  happened 
to  be  the  year  of  the  Danube  flood  — 1837  — 
and  the  call  for  help  sent  Liszt  to  Vienna  where 
he  gave  benefit  concerts  for  the  sufferers.  This 
accomplished,  the  pair  returned  to  Venice  and 
threaded  their  way  to  Rome  by  way  of  Lugano, 
Genoa,  and  Florence. 

Originally  Liszt  had  no  intention  of  con- 
certising  on  this  trip;  but  he  excused  his  ap- 
pearances on  the  concert  platforms  in  the  Ital- 
ian cities:  "I  did  not  wish  to  forget  my  trade 
entirely." 

The  condition  of  music  of  the  day  in  Italy 
held  out  no  inducements  or  illusions  to  him. 


FRANZ   LISZT 

He  writes  Berlioz  that  he  wished  to  make  the 
acquaintance  of  the  principal  Italian  cities  and 
really  could  hope  for  no  benefiting  influence 
from  these  flighty  stops.  But  there  was  another 
reason  why  he  was  so  little  influenced,  and  it 
was  simply  that  Italy  of  the  day  had  nothing 
of  great  musical  interest  to  offer  Liszt. 

His  first  public  appearance  in  Rome  was 
in  January,  1839.  Francilla  Pixis-Gohringer, 
adopted  daughter  of  his  friend  Pixis  and  pupil 
of  Sonntag  and  Malibran,  gave  a  concert  at 
this  time,  and  it  was  here  that  Liszt  assisted. 
After  that  the  Romans  did  what  ever  so  many 
had  done  before  them  —  threw  wide  their  doors 
to  the  artist  Liszt.  Thus  encouraged  he  dared 
give  serious  recitals  in  face  of  all  the  Roman 
musical  flippancy.  He  defied  public  taste  and 
craving  and  gave  a  series  of  what  he  called  in 
a  letter  to  the  Princess  Belgiojoso  "soliloques 
musicaux";  in  these  he  assumed  the  role  of 
a  musical  Louis  XIV,  and  politely  said: 
"  le  concert  c'est  moi!"  He  quotes  one  of  his 
programmes: 

1.  Overture  to  William  Tell,  performed  by 
Mr.  Liszt. 

2.  Fantaisie  on  reminiscences  of  Puritani, 
composed  and  performed  by  the  above  named. 

3.  Studies  and  Fragments,  composed  and 
performed  by  the  same. 

4.  Improvisation  on  a  given  theme  —  still  by 
the  same.     That  is  all. 

This  was  really  nothing  more  than  a   fore- 
82 


AT  ROME,   WEIMAR,   BUDAPEST 

runner  of  the  present  piano-recital.  Liszt  was 
the  first  one  who  ventured  an  evening  of  piano 
compositions  without  fearing  the  disgust  of  an 
audience.  From  his  accounts  they  behaved 
very  well  indeed,  and  applauded  and  chatted 
only  at  the  proper  time. 

Liszt,  realising  that  he  had  nothing  to  learn 
from  the  living  Italians,  turned  to  their  dead; 
and  for  such  studies  his  first  visit  to  Rome 
was  especially  propitious.  Gregory  XIV,  had 
opened  the  Etruscan  Museum  but  two  years 
before  and  was  stocking  it  with  the  treasures 
which  were  being  unearthed  in  the  old  cities 
of  Etruria.  The  same  pope  also  enlarged  the 
Vatican  library  and  took  active  interest  in  the 
mural  decorations  of  these  newly  added  ten 
rooms.  The  painters  Overbeck,  Cornelius,  and 
Veit  were  kept  actively  employed  in  this  city, 
and  the  influence  of  their  work  was  not  a 
trifling  one  on  the  painter  colony.  The  dip- 
lomat Von  Bunsen  and  the  Cardinals  Mezzo- 
fanti  and  Mai  exerted  their  influences  to  spread 
general  culture. 

An  interesting  one  of  Liszt's  friendships,  dating 
from  this  time,  is  that  with  Jean  Auguste  Domi- 
nique Ingres,  director  of  the  French  Academic. 
Strolling  under  the  oaks  of  the  Villa  Medici, 
Ingres  would  disentangle  for  his  younger  friend 
the  confusion  of  impressions  gathered  in  his 
wanderings  among  Rome's  art  treasures.  Him- 
self a  music  lover  and  a  musician  —  he  played 
the  violin  in  the  theatre  orchestra  of  his  native 

83 


FRANZ  LISZT 

place,  Montauban,  at  some  performances  of 
Gluck's  operas  —  Ingres  admired  Haydn,  Mo- 
zart, Beethoven,  and  above  all  Gluck,  upon 
whom  he  looked  as  the  musical  successor  to 
iEschylus,  Sophocles,  and  Euripides.  Under 
such  sympathetic  and  intelligent  guidance  Liszt's 
admiration  for  the  other  arts  became  ordered. 
After  a  day  among  the  forest  of  statues  he 
would  coax  his  friend  to  take  up  the  violin,  and 
Liszt  writes  almost  enthusiastically  of  his  Bee- 
thoven interpretations. 

It  is  entirely  within  reason  to  argue  that  we 
owe  to  this  new  viewpoint  such  of  Liszt's  com- 
positions as  were  inspired  by  works  of  the  other 
arts.  Such,  to  name  a  few,  were  the  Sposalizio 
and  II  Penseroso  —  by  Raphael  and  Michelan- 
gelo —  Die  Hunnenschlacht  —  Kaulbach  —  and 
Danse  Macabre  —  after  Andrea  Orcagna.  That 
Liszt  was  susceptible  to  such  impressions,  even 
before,  is  proven  by  his  essay  Die  Heihge  Cacelia 
by  Raphael,  written  earlier  than  this  Roman  trip; 
but  under  Ingres'  hints  his  width  of  vision  was 
extended,  and  he  began  to  find  alluring  parallels 
between  the  fine  arts  —  his  comprehension  of 
Mozart  and  Beethoven  grew  with  his  acquain- 
tance of  the  works  of  Raphael  and  Michelan- 
gelo. He  compared  Giovanni  da  Pisa,  Fra  Beato, 
and  Francia  with  Allegri,  Marcello,  and  Pa- 
lestrina;    Titian  with  Rossini! 

What  attracted  Liszt  principally  during  his 
first  stay  at  Rome  was  the  religion  of  art,  as 
it  had  attracted  Goethe  before  him.  Segnitz 
84 


AT  ROME,   WEIMAR,   BUDAPEST 

quotes  against  this  attitude  the  one  of  Berlioz, 
whom  the  ruins  of  Rome  touched  slightly,  as  did 
Palestrina's  church  music.  He  found  the  latter 
devoid  of  religious  sentiment,  and  in  this  verdict 
he  was  joined  by  none  less  than  Mendelssohn. 

The  surroundings,  the  atmosphere  of  Rome, 
appealed  to  Liszt,  and  under  them  his  individ- 
uality thrived  and  asserted  itself.  The  scat- 
tered and  often  hurried  impressions  of  this  first 
visit  ordered  themselves  gradually,  but  the  com- 
posite whole  deflected  his  life's  currents  into  the 
one  steady  and  broad  stream  of  art.  Like 
Goethe,  he  might  have  regarded  his  first  day  at 
Rome  as  the  one  of  his  second  birth,  as  the  one 
on  which  his  true  self  came  to  light.  The  Via 
Sacra  by  which  he  left  Rome  led  him  into  the 
forum  of  the  art  world. 

In  June,  1839,  after  a  stay  of  five  months, 
Liszt,  accompanied  by  the  Countess  d'Agoult, 
left  Rome  for  the  baths  at  Lucca.  The  elusive 
peace  he  was  tracking  escaped  him  here,  and 
he  wandered  to  the  little  fishing  village  San 
Rossore.  In  November  of  the  same  year  he 
parted  company  with  Italy  —  and  also  with  the 
countess.  The  D'Agoult  had  romantic  ideas 
of  their  union,  in  which  the  inevitable  respon- 
sibilities of  this  sort  of  thing  played  no  part. 
Segnitz  regards  the  entire  affair  as  having  been 
a  most  unfortunate  one  for  Liszt,  and  believes 
that  the  latter  only  saved  himself  and  his  entire 
artistic  future  by  separating  from  the  countess. 
The  years  of  contact  had  formed  no  spiritual 

35 


FRANZ  LISZT 

ties  between  them  and  the  rupture  was  inevit- 
able. 

With  her  three  children  d'Agoult  started  for 
Paris  there  to  visit  Liszt's  mother;  later,  through 
Liszt's  intervention,  a  complete  reconciliation 
with  her  family  was  effected.  Although  after  the 
death  of  her  mother  the  countess  inherited  a  for- 
tune, Liszt  continued  to  support  the  children. 

Leaving  San  Rossore  the  artist  began  his 
public  life  in  earnest.  It  was  the  beginning  of 
his  virtuoso  period  and  Vienna  was  the  starting- 
point  of  his  triumphal  tournee  across  Europe. 
This  period  was  an  important  one  for  develop- 
ment of  piano  playing,  placing  the  latter  on  a 
much  higher  artistic  plane  than  it  had  been; 
in  it  Liszt  also  inaugurated  a  new  phase  of  the 
possibilities  of  concert  giving.  It  was  the  time 
in  which  he  fought  both  friend  and  enemy,  fought 
without  quarter  for  the  cause  of  art. 

As  a  composer  Liszt,  during  his  first  stay  in 
Italy,  1837-40,  was  far  from  active.  The  Fan- 
taisie  quasi  Sonata  apres  une  lecture  de  Dante 
and  the  twelve  Etudes  d'execution  transcen- 
dante  both  came  to  life  at  Lake  Como.  There 
were  besides  the  Chromatic  Galop  and  the  pieces 
Sposalizio,  II  Penseroso  and  Tre  Sonetti  di  Pe- 
trarca,  which  became  part  of  the  Annees  de 
Pelerinage  (Italic).  His  first  song,  with  piano 
accompaniment,  Angiolin  dal  biondo  crin,  dates 
from  these  days.  The  balance  of  this  time  was 
devoted  to  making  arrangements  of  melodies 
by  Mercadante,  Donizetti,  and  Rossini,  and  to 
86 


AT  ROME,  WEIMAR,   BUDAPEST 

finishing  the  piano  transcriptions  of  the  Bee- 
thoven symphonies.  These  and  a  few  others 
about  cover  his  list  of  compositions  and  arrange- 
ments. 


II 


Immediately  after  Liszt's  separation  from  the 
Countess  d'Agoult  began  a  period  of  restless 
activity  for  him.  The  eight  nomadic  years  dur- 
ing which  he  wandered  up  and  down  Europe, 
playing  constantly  in  public,  are  the  ones  in 
which  his  virtuosity  flourished.  To-day  we  are 
inclined  to  mock  at  the  mere  mention  of  Liszt 
the  virtuoso  —  we  have  heard  far  too  much  of 
his  achievements,  achievements  behind  which 
the  real  Liszt  has  become  a  warped  and  un- 
recognizable personality.  But  it  was  a  remark- 
able tour  nevertheless,  and  so  wholesale  a  lesson 
in  musical  interpretation  as  Europe  had  never 
had  before.  Whenever  and  wherever  he  smote  the 
keyboard  the  old-fashioned  clay  idols  of  piano 
playing  were  shattered,  and  however  much  it 
was  attempted  to  patch  them  the  pieces  would 
not  quite  fit.  Liszt  struck  the  death-blow  to 
unemotional  playing,  but  he  destroyed  only  to 
create  anew:  he  erected  ideals  of  interpreta- 
tion which  are  still  honored. 

When  he  accepted  the  Weimar  post  of  Hof- 
kapellmeister  in  1847  —  he  had  en  passant  in 
a  term,  lasting  from  December,  1843,  to  Feb- 
ruary  of   the   following   year,   conducted  eight 

87 


FRANZ  LISZT 

successful  concerts  in  Weimar  —  it  looked  as 
if  his  wild  spirit  of  travel  had  dissipated  itself: 
ausgetobt,  as  the  Germans  say. 

With  scarcely  any  time  modulation  this  ver- 
satile genius  began  his  career  of  Hofkapell- 
meister,  in  which  he  topsy-turvied  traditions 
and  roused  Weimar  from  the  lethargy  into 
which  it  had  fallen  with  the  fading  of  that  won- 
derful Goethe  circle.  At  this  point  the  influ- 
ence of  woman  is  again  made  manifest. 

Gregorovius,  the  great  antiquarian,  gives  us 
a  few  glimpses  of  her  in  his  Romischen  Tage- 
biichern.  He  admits  that  her  personality  was 
repulsive  to  him,  but  that  she  fairly  sputtered 
spirituality.  Also  that  she  wrote  an  article 
about  the  Sixtine  Chapel  for  the  Revue  du 
Monde  CatJwlique  —  "a  brilliant  article:  all 
fireworks,  like  her  speech";  finally,  that  "she  is 
writing  an  essay  on  friendship." 

When  the  possibility  of  marriage  with  the 
Princess  went  up  into  thin  air  Liszt  began  con- 
templating a  permanent  residence  in  Rome. 
Here  he  could  live  more  independently  and 
privately  than  in  Germany,  and  this  was  de- 
sirable, since  he  still  had  some  musical  prob- 
lems to  solve.  First  of  all,  he  turned  to  his 
legend  of  the  Holy  Elizabeth,  completing  that; 
then  Der  Sonnen-Hymnus  des  heiligen  Fran- 
ziskus  von  Assisi  was  written,  to  say  nothing  of 
a  composition  for  organ  and  trombone  com- 
posed for  one  of  his  Weimar  adherents.  Fre- 
quent excursions  and  work  so  consumed  his 
88 


AT  ROME,  WEIMAR,   BUDAPEST 

hours  that  soon  we  find  him  complaining  as 
bitterly  about  the  lack  of  time  in  Rome  as  in 
Weimar. 

Rome  of  this  time  was  still  "outside  of  Italy: 
the  reverse  side  of  the  Papal  medallions  showed 
Daniel  in  the  lion's  den  and  Pope  Pio  Nono 
immersed  in  mysticism.  The  social  features 
were  important.  Segnitz  mentions  "die  Kol- 
nische  Patrizierin  Frau  Sibylle  Mertens-Schaafif- 
hausen,  Peter  Cornelius,  die  Dame  Schopen- 
hauer," the  Ottilie  of  Goethe.  Besides  the 
artists  Catel  and  Nerenz  there  was  Frau  von 
Schwarz,  who  attracted  Liszt.  She  boasted 
friendship  with  Garibaldi,  and  her  salon  was 
a  meeting-place  of  the  intellectual  multitude. 
Liszt  seems  to  have  been  king  pin  everywhere, 
and  it  is  refreshing  to  read  the  curt,  unsentimen- 
tal impression  of  him  retailed  by  Gregorovius: 
"I  have  met  Liszt,"  wrote  the  latter;  "remark- 
able, demoniac  appearance;  tall,  slender,  long 
hair.  Frau  von  Schwarz  believes  he  is  burned 
out,  that  only  the  walls  of  him  remain,  wherein 
a  small  ghostly  flame  flits."  To  add  to  the  list 
of  notables:  the  painter  Lindemann-Frommel; 
the  Prussian  representatives,  Graf  Arnim  and 
Kurt  von  Schlozer;  King  Louis  I,  of  Bavaria, 
and  the  artists  Riedel,  Schweinfurt,  Passini,  and 
Feuerbach  the  philosopher. 

Naturally  Liszt  participated  in  the  promi- 
nent church  festivals  and  was  affected  by  their 
glamour;  it  even  roused  him  to  sentimental  utter- 
ance. 

89 


FRANZ  LISZT 

Germany  and  the  thoughts  of  it  could  not 
lure  him  away  from  Rome,  nor  could  the  sum- 
mer heat  drive  him  out.  The  Holy  Elizabeth 
was  completed  by  August  lo,  1862,  and  with  it 
he  had  finished  the  greater  part  of  his  work  as 
composer.  Never  did  he  lose  interest  in  German 
art  movements,  and  was  ever  ready  with  ad- 
vice  and   suggestions. 

A  severe  shock,  one  which  sent  him  to  bed, 
came  to  him  about  the  middle  of  September  of 
this  year,  when  his  youngest  daughter,  Blan- 
dine  Ollivier,  the  wife  of  Louis  Napoleon's  war 
minister,  Emile  Ollivier,  died.  Liszt  turned  to 
religion  and  to  his  art  for  consolation;  he  slaved 
away  at  the  Christus  oratorio  and  wrote  two 
psalms  and  the  instrumental  Evocatio  in  der 
Sixtinischen  Kapelle.  Invitations  from  London, 
Weimar,  and  Budapest  could  not  budge  him 
from  Rome;  deeper  and  deeper  he  became  inter- 
ested in  the  wonders  and  beauties  of  his  re- 
ligion. 

The  following  year  —  1863  —  finds  him  hard 
at  work  as  ever.  His  oratorio  is  not  achieving 
great  progress,  but  he  is  revising  his  piano  ar- 
rangements of  the  Beethoven  Symphonies.  In 
the  spring  he  changes  his  quarters  and  moves 
into  the  Cloister  Madonna  del  Rosario,  in  which 
he  had  been  offered  several  rooms.  These  new 
lodgings  enchant  him.  Situated  on  the  Monte 
Mario,  the  site  commanded  a  view  of  Rome  and 
the  Campagna,  the  Albano  Mountains  and  the 
River  Tiber.     So  Signer  Commendatore  Liszt, 

90 


AT  ROME,   WEIMAR,   BUDAPEST 

the  friend  of  Padre  Theiner,  is  living  in  a  cloister 
and  the  religious  germs  begin  to  sprout  in  this 
quiet  surrounding.  Liszt  esteemed  the  priest 
highly  as  an  educated  man  and  admired  his 
personality.  Gregorovius,  on  the  other  hand, 
could  pump  up  no  liking  at  all  for  the  hermit- 
like Padre,  discovered  him  dry  and  judged  his 
writings  and  philosophy  as  dry,  archaic  stuff. 

In  Itahan  politics  and  Italian  music  Liszt 
found  nothing  to  attract  him.  The  latter  was 
crude,  as  regards  composition,  and  generally 
resolved  itself  into  Drehorgel-Lyrik.  The  pi- 
ano was  at  that  time  not  an  Italian  object  of 
furniture,  and  in  the  churches  they  still  served 
up  operatic  music  with  the  thinnest  religious 
varnish.  In  the  salons  one  seldom  heard  good 
music,  so  that  Liszt,  through  his  pupils  Sgam- 
bati,  Berta,  and  others  was  able  to  work  some 
reform  in  these  matters. 

On  July  II,  1862,  the  tongue  of  all  Rome 
was  wagging:  Pope  Pius  IX  had  paid  Liszt  a 
visit  at  the  Cloister  Santa  Maria  del  Rosario. 
Liszt  recounts  that  His  Holiness  had  stayed  with 
him  about  half  an  hour,  during  which  time  the 
pianist  had  played  for  him  on  the  harmonium 
and  on  the  little  working  piano.  After  that  the 
Pope  had  spoken  earnestly  to  him  and  begged 
him  to  strive  for  the  heavenly,  even  in  earthly 
matters,  and  to  prepare  himself  for  the  eternal 
sounding  harmonies  by  means  of  the  passing 
earthly  ones. 

Liszt  was  the  first  artist  who  had  been  hon- 

91 


FRANZ  LISZT 

ored  thus.  A  few  days  later  the  Pope  granted 
him  an  audience  in  the  Vatican,  when  he  pre- 
sented Liszt  with  a  cameo  of  the  Madonna. 

Segnitz  quotes  from  two  of  Liszt's  letters  in 
which  he  voices  his  religious  sentiments,  and 
hopes  that  eventually  his  bones  may  rest  in 
Roman  earth. 

Rather  a  remarkable  phase  of  Liszt  now  was 
that  he  tried  with  might  and  main  to  live 
down  and  forget  his  so-called  "  Glanzperiode," 
the  one  of  his  virtuosity.  An  invitation  from 
Cologne  and  also  one  from  St.  Petersburg  to 
play  and  display  once  more  "that  entrancing 
tone  which  he  could  coax  out  of  the  keys" 
aroused  his  wrath.  He  asks,  is  he  never  to  be 
taken  more  seriously  than  as  a  pianist,  is  he 
not  worthy  of  recognition  as  a  musician,  a  com- 
poser? On  the  other  hand,  nothing  flattered 
him  as  much  as  when  an  Amsterdam  society 
performed  his  Graner  Messe  and  sent  him  a 
diploma  of  honorary  membership.  Further- 
more, he  derived  much  encouragement  from  an 
article  in  the  Neue  Zeitschrift  fiir  Musik,  writ- 
ten by  Heinrich  Porges,  in  which  Liszt's  com- 
positions were  seriously  discussed. 

Liszt  found  time  to  revise  the  four  Psalms,  13 
—  this  was  his  favourite  one — 18,  23,  137;  and 
during  this  year  he  also  composed  for  the  piano 
Alleluja,  Ave  Maria,  Waldesrauschen,  Gnomen- 
reigen,  the  two  legends.  Die  Vogelpredigt  and 
Der  heilige  Franz  von  Paula  auf  den  Wogen 
schreitend;  then  the  organ  variations  on  the 
92 


AT  ROME,  WEIMAR,   BUDAPEST 

Bach  theme  Weinen,  klagen,  sorgen,  zagen,  and 
the  Papsthymus.  He  again  took  up  his  former 
project  of  making  piano  arrangements  of  the 
Beethoven  quartets. 

The  year  after  this  one  was  remarkable  for 
the  facts  that  Liszt  was  coaxed  to  play  in  public 
on  the  occasion  of  a  benefit  for  the  Peter's 
Pence,  and  that  he  participated  in  the  Karlsruhe 
music  festival.  He  left  Rome  in  August  and 
journeyed  first  to  St.  Tropez  to  visit  his  daugh- 
ter's grave;  then  to  Karlsruhe.  After  this  he 
went  to  Munich  and  visited  Hans  and  Cosima 
von  Billow  on  the  way  to  Weimar.  Finally  a 
trip  to  Paris  to  see  his  aged  mother,  and  he  re- 
turned to  Rome  at  the  end  of  October.  Besides 
working  on  his  oratorio  and  making  some  piano 
transcriptions,  he  composed  only  two  new  num- 
bers, a  litany  for  organ  and  a  chorus  with  organ 
accompaniment. 

Two  public  appearances  in  Rome  as  pianist 
occurred  during  the  spring  of  1865,  and  then, 
to  the  surprise  of  many,  on  April  25,  Liszt  took 
minor  orders  of  priesthood,  forsook  the  Cloister 
and  made  his  abode  in  the  Vatican  next  to 
the  rooms  of  his  priestly  friend  Monseigneur 
Hohenlohe. 

Gregorovius  writes  of  this  appearance  of 
Liszt  as  the  virtuoso:  "He  played  Die  Auf- 
forderung  zum  Tanz  and  Erlkonig  —  a  queer 
adieu  to  the  world.  No  one  suspected  that 
already    he    carried    his    abbe's    socks    in    his 

93 


FRANZ   LISZT 

pockets.  .  .  .  Now  he  wears  the  cloaklet  of 
the  abbe,  lives  in  the  Vatican,  and,  as  Schlozer 
tells  me,  is  happy  and  healthy.  This  is  the  end 
of  the  genial  virtuoso,  the  personality  of  a  sov- 
ereign. I  am  glad  that  I  heard  Liszt  play  once 
more,  he  and  his  instrument  seemed  to  be  grown 
together  —  a  piano-centaur. " 

As  we  look  back  at  the  step  now  and  are 
able  to  weigh  the  gradual  influence  which  assert- 
ed itself  on  Liszt  the  act  seems  to  have  been 
an  inevitable  one.  At  the  time,  however,  it  was 
more  or  less  unexpected. 

He  assures  Breitkopf  &  Hartel  that  his  old 
weakness  for  composition  has  not  deserted  him, 
that  he  must  commit  to  paper  some  of  the  won- 
derful things  which  were  spooking  about  in  his 
head.  And  the  public?  Well,  it  regretted  that 
Liszt  was  wasting  his  time  writing  such  dreadful 
"Tonwirrwarr."  Liszt  smiled  ironically — and 
continued  to  compose. 

His  patriotism  sent  him  travelling  once  more 
—  this  year  to  Pesth,  where  he  conducted  his 
arrangement  of  the  Rakoczy  March  and  the 
Divine  Comedy.  He  returned  to  Rome  and 
learned  that  his  friend  Hohenlohe  was  about 
to  be  made  cardinal,  an  event  which  had  its 
bearing  on  his  stay  in  the  Vatican. 

Liszt  moved  back  to  the  Cloister  after  Hohen- 
lohe had  given  up  his  quarters  in  the  Vatican 
for  a   cardinal's    house.     This   year  —  1866  — 
is  also  a  record  of  travel.     After  he  had  con- 
ducted his  Dante   Symphony  in   Rome  —  and 

94 


AT  ROME,   WEIMAR,   BUDAPEST 

the  natives  found  it  "inspired  but  formless"  — 
he  went  to  Paris  to  witness  a  performance  of 
his  Mass.  Report  had  preceded  him  that  he 
was  physically  a  wreck,  and  he  delighted  in 
showing  himself  to  prove  the  falsehood  of  the 
rumour.  And  partly  to  display  his  mental  ac- 
tivity he  began  theological  studies,  so  that  he 
might  pass  his  examination  and  take  higher 
orders. 

In  addition  to  his  Paris  trip  he  also  wandered 
to  Amsterdam  to  hear  his  Mass  once  more.  Im- 
mediately after  his  return  to  Rome  he  completed 
the  Christus  oratorio  and  began  work  on  the 
arrangements  of  the  Beethoven  quartets.  He 
soon  found  that  he  had  attacked  an  impossible 
task.  "I  failed  where  Tausig  succeeded,"  he 
lamented;  and  then  explained  that  Tausig  had 
been  wise  enough  to  select  only  such  movements 
as  were  available  for  the  piano. 

His  compositions  this  year  were  not  very 
numerous  —  some  piano  extracts  out  of  his  ora- 
torio and  sketches  for  the  Hungarian  Corona- 
tion Mass.  Politics  were  throwing  up  dense 
clouds  of  dust  in  Rome,  the  Papal  secular  power 
was  petering  out,  and  in  consequence  Liszt,  who 
hated  politics,  was  compelled  to  change  his  res- 
idence again,  moving  this  time  to  the  old  cloister 
Santa  Francesca  Romana.  Here  he  met  his 
friends  weekly  on  Friday  mornings,  and  be- 
sides animated  conversation  there  was  much 
chamber  music  to  be  heard. 

95 


FRANZ  LISZT 

The  Hungarian  Mass  was  finished  early  in 
1867,  and  Liszt  went  to  Pesth,  where  he  con- 
ducted it  with  much  success  when  Francis 
Joseph  was  made  King  of  Hungary.  Then  he 
appeared  at  the  Wartburg  Festival,  and  on  his 
return  trip  stopped  at  Lucerne  to  greet  Wagner. 
After  a  short  stay  at  Munich,  with  Cosima  and 
Hans  von  Biilow,  he  found  himself  once  more  in 
Rome  and  was  allowed  a  few  months  of  rest. 
Besides  the  Hungarian  Mass  he  composed  this 
year  a  Funeral  March  on  the  occasion  of  Maxi- 
milian of  Mexico's  death  —  it  appeared  later 
as  the  sixth  of  the  third  collection:  Annees  de 
P^lerinage.  His  piano  transcriptions  were  con- 
fined to  works  by  Verdi  and  Von  Biilow,  and  as 
a  souvenir  of  the  days  passed  with  Wagner  at 
Triebschen  he  transcribed  Isolde's  Liebestod. 

The  social  features  of  his  stay  in  Rome  were 
becoming  unbearable,  and  Liszt  could  only  com- 
mand privacy  by  being  rude  to  the  persistent 
ones.  Several  little  excursions  out  of  Rome  dur- 
ing the  spring  were  followed  by  a  long  journey 
in  the  summer  with  his  friend  Abbe  Solfa- 
nelli.  First  to  a  place  of  pilgrimage;  then  to 
the  city  of  Liszt's  patron  saint,  Assisi,  and  from 
there  to  Loreto.  When  Liszt  re-entered  Rome 
he  found  the  social  life  so  exigent  that  he  was 
driven  to  the  stillness  of  the  Campagna,  and 
lived  for  some  time  in  the  Villa  d'Este.  This 
— 1868  —  was  his  last  year  at  Rome,  for  the 
middle  of  January  of  the  following  year  found 
him  settled  in  Weimar  again.  Although  he  was 
96 


AT  ROME,   WEIMAR,   BUDAPEST 

still  spared  many  years  in  which  to  work,  yet 
the  eve  of  his  life  was  upon  him.  If  he  had 
hoped  to  find  finally  in  Weimar  homely  rest  and 
peace  he  was  doomed  to  disappointment.  He 
remained  a  wanderer  to  the  end  of  his  days. 

There  remains  to  be  made  a  mention  of  his 
compositions  during  his  last  year  at  Rome. 
Principal  among  these  was  the  Requiem  dedi- 
cated to  the  memory  of  his  deceased  mother  and 
his  two  children,  Daniel  and  Blandine;  then 
three  church  compositions  and  the  epilogue  to 
his  Tasso,  Le  Triomphe  du  Tasse,  and  the 
usual  transcriptions  for  the  piano. 

Whether  or  not  Liszt's  interest  in  matters  re- 
ligious abated  is  not  made  very  clear.  So  much 
is  certain  that  his  plans  for  taking  higher  orders 
came  to  nothing.  Was  the  Church  after  all  a  dis- 
appointment to  him?  One  recalls  his  childish 
delight  when  first  he  was  created  Abb^.  Then  he 
wrote  Hohenlohe:  "They  tell  me  that  I  wear 
my  soutane  as  though  I  always  had  worn  one." 

The  Hungarian  Government  elected  the  Ahh6 
honorary  president  of  the  Landes  Musikakade- 
mie  in  1873.  This  gave  Liszt's  wanderings  still 
a  third  objective  point,  Budapest. 

In  Weimar  his  time  was  now  devoted  more  to 
teaching  than  to  composing,  and  the  Liszt  pupils 
began  to  sprout  by  the  gross.  The  absurd  senti- 
mentality which  clings  about  this  period  has 
never  been  condemned  sufficiently.  Read  this 
entry  in  the  note-book  of  Gregorovius  and  draw 

97 


FRANZ  LISZT 

at  least  a  few  of  your  own  conclusions:  "Dined 
with  Liszt  at  Weimar.  He  was  very  lovable, 
made  up  to  me  and  hoped  at  parting  that  I 
would  give  him  my  confidence.  This  would  be 
very  difl&cult,  as  we  have  not  one  point  in  com- 
mon. He  has  grown  very  old;  his  face  is  all 
wrinkled;  yet  his  animation  is  very  attractive. 
The  Countess  Tolstoy  told  me  yesterday  that 
an  American  lady  living  here  had  stripped  the 
covering  off  a  chair  on  which  Liszt  had  sat,  had 
had  it  framed  and  now  it  hung  on  her  wall. 
She  related  this  to  Liszt,  who  at  first  seemed 
indignant  and  then  asked  if  it  were  really  true! 
If  such  a  man  does  not  despise  mankind  then 
one  must  give  him  great  credit  for  it." 

Still  Liszt  fluttered  to  Rome  from  time  to 
time.  ''  If  it  had  not  been  for  music  I  should 
have  devoted  myself  entirely  to  the  church  and 
would  have  become  a  Franciscan;  It  is  in  error 
that  I  am  accused  of  becoming  a  'frivolous 
Abb6'  because  of  external  reasons.  On  the  con- 
trary, it  was  my  most  innermost  wish  which  led 
me  to  join  the  church  that  I  wished  to  serve" 
he  said. 

During  these  later  visits  he  took  up  his  abode 
in  the  Hotel  d'Alibert.  His  rooms  were  fur- 
nished as  plainly  as  possible  —  in  the  one  a  bed 
and  a  writing-desk,  and  the  second  one,  his  re- 
ception and  class-room,  held  a  grand  piano. 
Some  of  his  pupils  lived  at  the  same  hotel  — 
Stradal,  Ansorge,  Gollerich,  Burmeister,  Staven- 
hagen,  and  Madamoiselle  Cognetti. 
98 


AT  ROME,   WEIMAR,   BUDAPEST 

Liszt's  daily  mode  of  life  is  rather  intimate- 
ly described.  He  arose  at  four  in  the  morning 
and  began  composing,  which  he  continued  until 
seven.  His  pupils  would  drop  in  to  greet  him 
and  be  dismissed  kindly  with  a  cigar.  After 
a  second  breakfast  he  attended  early  mass  in 
the  San  Carlo  Church,  where  he  was  accom- 
panied by  Stradal;  then  back  to  his  rooms,  and 
after  an  hour's  rest  he  would  work  or  pay  some 
visits. 

His  noon  meal  was  taken  regularly  with  the 
Princess  Sayn-Wittgenstein,  who  now  lived  a 
retired  life  and  devoted  herself  to  religious 
studies.  These  visits  brought  to  Liszt  much 
peace  and  to  the  Princess  happiness;  they  were 
still  devoted  to  each  other.  After  this  meal 
Liszt  returned  to  his  quarters  and  rested.  Only 
on  every  other  day  he  taught.  The  pupil  played 
the  composition  of  his  own  choice  and  Liszt's 
criticisms  would  follow.  Muddy  playing  drove 
him  frantic,  and  he  often  told  his  pupils  to 
"wash  their  dirty  linen  at  home"  !  He  taught 
liberal  use  of  the  pedal,  but  with  utmost  discre- 
tion. The  one  thing  he  could  not  abide  was 
pedantic  performance:  "Among  artists  there  is 
not  the  division  of  professors  and  non-professors. 
They  are  only  artists  —  or  they  are  not." 

Occasionally  he  would  play  for  a  small  assem- 
bly —  once  he  favoured  the  few  with  the  D-flat 
Etude,  and  the  crossing  left  hand  struck  false 
notes  repeatedly.  He  played  the  piece  to  the 
end,  and  then  atoned  for  his  bulls  by  adding  an 

99 


FRANZ  LISZT 

improvisation  on  the  theme  which  moved  the 
assembly  to  tears! 

During  these  class  hours  a  small  circle  of  in- 
timate ones  was  usually  invited.  The  Princess 
Wittgenstein  was  noticeably  absent;  but  there 
were  the  Princess  Minghetti,  the  Countess  Re- 
viczy  —  to  whom  the  Fifth  Rhapsody  is  dedi- 
cated —  and  several  barons  and  artists  —  Alma 
Tadema  among  the  latter.  Depend  upon  it, 
wherever  Liszt  pitched  his  tent  there  were  some 
titles  in  the  neighbourhood.  From  two  until  six 
in  the  afternoon  these  lessons  lasted.  Then 
the  small  audience  withdrew  and  Liszt  played 
cards  with  his  pupils  for  one  hour. 

About  eight  in  the  evening  Liszt  would  take 
himself  to  the  house  of  the  Princess  Wittgen- 
stein and  sup  with  her.  This  meal  consisted 
principally  of  ham,  says  the  biographer,  and 
Hungarian  red  wine.  By  nine  he  had  usually 
retired. 

Stradal  seems  to  have  been  one  of  his  favour- 
ites and  accompanied  Liszt  on  some  of  his  little 
excursions  to  the  beloved  cloisters,  San  Onofrio 
and  Monte  Mario,  then  into  the  Valle  dell'  In- 
ferno. Here  under  the  Tasso  oak  Liszt  spoke 
of  the  life  of  the  great  poet  and  compared  his 
own  fate  to  that  of  Tasso.  '*  They  will  not  carry 
me  in  triumph  across  the  Capitol,  but  the  time 
will  come  when  my  works  will  be  acknowledged. 
This  will  happen  too  late  for  me  —  I  shall  not 
be  among  you  any  more,"  he  said.  Not  an  un- 
true prophecy. 

lOO 


AT  ROME,  WEIMAR,   BUDAPEST 

During  these  trips  he  gave  alms  freely.  His 
servant  Mischka  filled  Liszt's  right  vest  pocket 
with  lire  and  the  other  one  with  soldi  every  morn- 
ing. And  Liszt  always  strewed  about  the  silver 
pieces,  returning  to  his  astonished  servant  with 
the  pocket  full  of  copper  coins  untouched. 

Rudolf  Louis,  another  Liszt  biographer,  tells 
an  amusing  story  which  fits  in  the  time  when 
Pius  the  Ninth  visited  Liszt  in  the  cloister. 
While  most  of  the  living  composers  contented 
themselves  with  envying  Liszt,  old  Rossini  tried 
to  turn  the  incident  to  his  own  advantage.  He 
begged  Liszt  to  use  his  influence  in  securing 
the  admission  of  female  voices  in  service  of  the 
church  because  he  —  Rossini  —  did  not  care  to 
hear  his  churchly  compositions  sung  by  croak- 
ing boys'  voices!  Of  course  nothing  came  of 
this  request. 

The  incident  itself  —  the  Pope's  visit  to  Liszt 
—  caused  much  gossip  at  the  time.  It  was  even 
reported  that  Pio  Nono  had  called  Liszt  "his 
Palestrina." 

M.  Louis  also  makes  a  point  which  most 
Wagner  biographers  seem  to  have  overlooked 
in  their  hurry  to  make  Richard  appear  a  very 
moral  man,  namely,  that  the  little  Von  Bulow- 
Cosima-Wagner  affair  did  not  please  Papa  Liszt 
at  all.  Truce  was  patched  up  only  in  1873, 
when  Liszt's  "Christus"  performance  at  Weimar 
was  witnessed  by  Wagner.  Bayreuth  of  '76  ce- 
mented the  friendship  once  more. 

Read   this   paragraph  from   the   pen  of  the 

lOI 


FRANZ  LISZT 

cynical  Gregorovius;  it  refers  to  the  Roman 
performance  of  the  Dante  Symphony  in  the  Gal- 
leria  Dantesca  when  the  Abbe  reaped  an  after- 
math of  homage:  "The  Ladies  of  Paradise 
(?!)  poured  flowers  on  him  from  above;  Frau 
L.  almost  murdered  him  with  a  big  laurel 
wreath!  But  the  Romans  criticised  the  music 
severely  as  being  formless.  There  is  inspira- 
tion in  it,  but  it  does  not  reach  (?!).  Liszt  left 
for  Paris.  The  day  before  his  departure  I 
breakfasted  with  him  at  Tolstoy's  ;  he  played 
for  a  solid  hour  and  allowed  himself  to  be  per- 
suaded to  do  this  by  the  young  Princess  Nadine 
Hellbig  —  Princess  Shahawskoy  —  a  woman  of 
remarkably  colossal  figure,  but  also  of  remark- 
able intelligence." 


I02 


V 
AS  COMPOSER 

Richard  Wagner  wrote  to  Liszt  July  20, 
1856,  concerning  his  symphonic  poems: 

"With  your  symphonic  poems  I  am  now 
quite  familiar.  They  are  the  only  music  I  have 
anything  to  do  with  at  present,  as  I  cannot 
think  of  doing  any  work  of  my  own  while  un- 
dergoing medical  treatment.  Every  day  I  read 
one  or  the  other  of  your  scores,  just  as  I  would 
read  a  poem,  easily  and  without  hindrance. 
Then  I  feel  every  time  as  if  I  had  dived  into  a 
crystalline  depth,  there  to  be  all  alone  by  my- 
self, having  left  all  the  world  behind,  to  live  for 
an  hour  my  own  proper  life.  Refreshed  and 
invigorated,  I  then  come  to  the  surface  again, 
full  of  longing  for  your  personal  presence.  Yes, 
my  friend,  you  have  the  power!  You  have  the 
power  P^ 

And  later  (December  6,  1856):  "I  feel  thor- 
oughly contemptible  as  a  musician,  whereas  you, 
as  I  have  now  convinced  myself,  are  the  greatest 
musician  of  all  times."  Wagner,  too,  could  be 
generous  and  flattering.  He  had  praised  the 
piano  sonata;  Mazeppa  and  Orpheus  were  his 
favourites  among  the  symphonic  poems. 

103 


FRANZ   LISZT 

Camille  Saint-Saens  was  more  discriminating 
in  his  admiration;  he  said: 

"Persons  interested  in  things  musical  may 
perhaps  recall  a  concert  given  many  years  ago 
in  the  hall  of  the  Theatre  Italien,  Paris,  under 
the  direction  of  the  author  of  this  article.  The 
programme  was  composed  entirely  of  the  or- 
chestral work  of  Franz  Liszt,  whom  the  world 
persists  in  calling  a  great  pianist,  in  order  to 
avoid  acknowledging  him  as  one  of  the  greatest 
composers  of  our  time.  This  concert  was  con- 
siderably discussed  in  the  musical  world,  strictly 
speaking,  and  in  a  lesser  degree  by  the  general 
public.  Liszt  as  a  composer  seemed  to  many 
to  be  the  equal  of  Ingres  as  a  violinist,  or 
Thiers  as  an  astronomer.  However,  the  pub- 
lic, who  would  have  come  in  throngs  to  hear  Liszt 
play  ten  bars  on  the  piano,  as  might  be  ex- 
pected, manifested  very  little  desire  to  hear  the 
Dante  Symphony,  the  Berges  a  la  crecJte  and 
Les  Mages,  symphonic  parts  of  Christus,  and 
other  compositions  which,  coming  from  one  less 
illustrious,  but  playing  the  piano  fairly  well, 
would  have  surely  aroused  some  curiosity.  We 
must  also  state  that  the  concert  was  not  well  ad- 
vertised. While  the  "Spanish  Student"  mo- 
nopolized all  the  advertising  space  and  posters 
possible,  the  Liszt  concert  had  to  be  satisfied 
with  a  brief  notice  and  could  not,  at  any  price, 
take  its  place  among  the  theatre  notices. 

"  Several  days  later,  a  pianist  giving  a  concert 
at  the  Itahen,  obtained  this  favour.  Theatres 
104 


AS   COMPOSER 

surely  offer  inexplicable  mysteries  to  simple  mor- 
tals. The  name  of  Liszt  appeared  here  and 
there  in  large  type  on  the  top  row  of  certain  post- 
ers, where  the  human  eye  could  see  it  only  by 
the  aid  of  the  telescope.  But,  nevertheless,  our 
concert  was  given,  and  not  to  an  empty  hall. 
The  musical  press,  at  our  appeal,  kindly  as- 
sisted; but  the  importance  of  the  works  on  which 
they  were  invited  to  express  an  opinion  seemed  to 
escape  them  entirely.  They  considered,  in  gen- 
eral, that  the  music  of  Liszt  was  well  written, 
free  from  certain  peculiarities  they  expected  to 
find  in  it,  and  that  it  did  not  lack  a  certain 
charm.     That  was  all. 

"If  such  had  been  my  opinion  of  the  works 
of  Liszt,  I  certainly  should  not  have  taken  the 
trouble  to  gather  together  a  large  orchestra  and 
rehearse  two  weeks  for  a  concert.  Moreover,  I 
should  like  to  say  a  few  words  of  these  works, 
so  little  known,  whose  future  seems  so  bright. 
It  is  not  long  since  orchestral  music  was  con- 
fined to  but  two  forms  —  the  symphony  and  the 
overture.  Haydn,  Mozart,  and  Beethoven  had 
never  written  anything  else;  who  would  have 
dared  to  do  other  than  they?  Neither  Weber, 
Mendelssohn,  Schubert,  nor  Schumann.  Liszt 
did  dare." 

Liszt  understood  that  to  introduce  new  forms 
he  must  cause  a  necessity  to  be  felt,  in  a  word, 
produce  a  motive  for  them.  He  resolutely  en- 
tered on  the  path  which  Beethoven,  with  the 
Pastoral  and  Choral  Symphonies,  and  Berlioz, 

105 


FRANZ  LISZT 

with  the  Symphonic  Fantastique  and  Harold  in 
Italy,  had  suggested  rather  than  opened,  for  they 
had  enlarged  the  compass  of  the  symphony,  but 
had  not  transformed  it,  and  it  was  Liszt  who 
created  the  symphonic  poem. 

This  brilliant  and  fecund  creation  will  be  to 
posterity  one  of  Liszt's  greatest  titles  to  glory, 
and  when  time  shall  have  effaced  the  luminous 
trace  of  this  greatest  pianist  who  has  ever  lived 
it  will  inscribe  on  the  roll  of  honour  the  name  of 
the  emancipator  of  instrumental  music. 

Liszt  not  only  introduced  into  the  musical 
world  the  symphonic  poem,  he  developed  it  him- 
self; and  in  his  own  twelve  poems  he  has  shown 
the  chief  forms  in  which  it  can  be  clothed. 

Before  taking  up  the  works  themselves,  let  us 
consider  the  form  of  which  it  is  the  soul,  the  prin- 
ciple of  programme  music. 

To  many,  programme  music  is  a  necessarily 
inferior  genre.  Much  has  been  written  on  this 
subject  that  cannot  be  understood.  Is  the  music, 
in  itself,  good  or  bad  ?  That  is  the  point.  The 
fact  of  its  being  "programme"  or  not  makes  it 
neither  better  not  worse.  It  is  exactly  the  same 
in  painting,  where  the  subject  of  the  picture, 
which  is  everything  to  the  vulgar  mind,  is  noth- 
ing or  little  to  the  artist.  The  reproach  against 
music,  of  expressing  nothing  in  itself  without  the 
aid  of  words,  applies  equally  to  painting. 

To  the  artist,  programme  music  is  only  a  pre- 
text to  enter  upon  new  ways,  and  new  effects 
demand  new  means,  which,  by  the  way,  is  very 

io6 


AS  COMPOSER 

little  desired  by  orchestra  leaders  and  kapell- 
meisters who,  above  all,  love  ease  and  tranquil 
existence.  I  should  not  be  surprised  to  discover 
that  the  resistance  to  works  of  which  we  speak 
comes  not  from  the  public,  but  from  orchestra 
leaders,  little  anxious  to  cope  with  the  difl&culties 
of  every  nature  which  they  contain.  However, 
I  will  not  affirm  it. 

p"  The  compositions  to  which  Liszt  gave  the  name 
symphonic  poem  are  twelve  in  number: 

1.  Ce  qu'on  entend  sur  la  montagne,  after 
Victor  Hugo. 

2.  Tasso,  Lamento  and  Trionfo. 
-3.  Les  Preludes,  after  Lamartine. 

4.  Orphde. 

5.  Promdth^e. 

6.  Mazeppa. 

7.  Fest-Klange. 

8.  H^roide  fun^bre. 

9.  Hungaria. 
—  10.  Hamlet. 

11.  La  bataille  des  Huns,  after  Kaulbach. 

12.  L'ideal,  after  Schiller. 

The  symphonic  poem  in  the  form  in  which 
Liszt  has  given  it  to  us,  is  ordinarily  an  ensemble 
of  different  movements  depending  on  each  other, 
and  flowing  from  a  principal  ideal,  blending  into 
each  other,  and  forming  one  composition.  The 
plan  of  the  musical  poem  thus  understood  may 
vary  infinitely.  To  obtain  a  great  unity,  and  at 
the  same  time  the  greatest  variety  possible,  Liszt 
most  often  chooses  a  musical  phrase,  which  he 
107 


FRANZ  LISZT 

transforms  by  means  of  artifices  of  rhythm,  to 
give  it  the  most  diverse  aspects  and  cause  it  to 
serve  as  an  expression  of  the  most  varied  senti- 
ments. This  is  one  of  the  usual  methods  of 
Richard  Wagner,  and,  in  my  opinion,  it  is  the 
only  one  common  to  the  two  composers.  In 
style,  in  use  of  harmonic  resources  and  instrumen- 
tation, they  differ  as  widely  as  two  contemporary 
artists  could  differ,  and  yet  really  belong  to  the 
same  school." 


THE  BERG  SYMPHONY 

"Ce  qu'on  entend  sur  la  montagne"  —  or, 
as  it  is  more  familiarly  known,  "Die  Bergsym- 
phonie"  —  is  ranked  among  the  earliest  of  Liszt's 
symphonic  works.  The  first  sketches  of  this 
symphonic  poem  were  made  as  early  as  1833-35, 
but  they  were  not  orchestrated  until  1849,  and 
the  composition  had  its  first  hearing  in  Weimar 
in  1853. 

A  German  enthusiast  says  this  work  is  the  first 
towering  peak  of  a  mountain  chain,  and  that 
here  already  —  in  the  first  of  the  list  of  Sym- 
phonic Poems  —  the  mastery  of  the  composer 
is  indubitably  revealed.  The  subject  is  not  a 
flippant  one,  by  any  means:  it  touches  on  the 
relation  of  man  to  nature  —  das  Weltratsel. 
Inspiration  came  directly  from  Victor  Hugo's 
poem,  "  Ce  qu'on  entend  sur  la  montagne."  The 
subject  is  that  of  Nature's  perfection  contrasted 
to  Man's  misery: 

108 


AS   COMPOSER 

Die  Welt  ist  volkommen  iiberall, 

Wo  der  Mensch  nicht  hinkommt  mit  seiner  Qual. 

Only  when  one  withdraws  from  the  hurdy- 
gurdy  trend  of  life,  only  from  the  height  of  moun- 
tain does  one  see  Truth  in  perspective.  This 
is  "What  one  hears  on  the  Mountain." 

Zuerst  vermorr'ner,  unermess'ner  Larm, 
Undeutlich  wie  der  Wind  in  dichten  Baumen, 
Voll  klarer  Tone,  siissen  Lispelns,  sanft 
Wie'n  Abendlied,  und  stark  wie  Waffenklirren. 

Es  war  ein  Tonen,  tief  und  unausprechlich, 
Das  flutend  Kreise  zog  rings  um  die  Welt 
Und  durch  die  Himmel  .  .  . 

Die  Welt,  Gehiillt  in  diese  Symphonie, 
Schwamm  wie  in  Luft,  so  in  der  Harmonic. 

This  is  the  key-note  to  the  introductory  meas- 
ures of  Liszt's  work.  Out  of  the  sombre  roll  of 
the  drum  —  which  continues  as  a  ground  tone 
—  the  different  instruments  assert  themselves. 
Muted  strings  imitate  the  rush  of  the  sea;  horns 
and  woodwind  hint  at  the  battling  of  elements  in 
chaos,  while  the  violins  and  harp  swerve  peace- 
fully aloft  in  arpeggios.  The  oboe  chants  sanft 
wie'n  Abendlied,  the  beautiful  melody  of  peace- 
ful idyllic  nature.  After  this  impression  be- 
comes a  mood  Liszt  resumes  the  poetic  narrative 
and  individualises  the  two  voices: 

Vom  Meer  die  eine;  wie  ein  Sang  von  Ruhm  und  Gliick, 

Die  and're  hob  von  uns'rer  Erde  sich, 

Sie  war  voll  Trauer:  das  Gerausch  der  Menschen. 

109 


FRANZ  LISZT 

The  voice  of  Man  is  the  first  to  be  heard.  It 
obtrudes  itself  even  while  the  violins  are  preach- 
ing earthly  peace,  and  eventually  embroils  them 
in  its  cry  of  discontent.  All  this  over  the  pedal 
point  of  worldly  noises. 

There  is  a  sudden  pause,  and  in  the  succeeding 
maestoso  episode  the  second  voice  is  heard  — • 
Nature's  Hymn: 

.   Der  pracht'ge  Ocean  ... 

Liess  eine  friedliche  frohe  Stimme  horen, 
Sang,  wie  die  Harfe  singt  in  Sion's  Tempeln, 
Und  pries  der  Schopfung  Schonheit. 

Here  there  is  composure  and  serenity,  which 
diminishes  to  a  tender  piano  in  string  harmonics. 
But  in  the  woodwind  a  dissenting  theme  appears 
from  time  to  time :  Man  and  his  torments  invade 
this  sanctity  of  peace.  His  cry  grows  louder, 
and  one  hears  in  it  the  anguish  of  the  pursued 
one.  The  strings  forsake  their  tranquil  har- 
monics and  resolve  themselves  into  a  troublous 
tremolo,  while  the  clarinettes,  in  a  new  theme, 
question  this  intrusion.  Meanwhile  the  misery 
of  Man  gains  the  upper  hand,  and  in  the  fol- 
lowing Allegro  con  moto  there  sounds  all  the 
fury  of  a  wild  chase: 

Ein  Weinen,  Kreischen,  Schmahen  and  Verfluchen 
Und  Hohn  und  Lasterung  und  wiist'  Geschrei 
Taucht  aus  des  Menschenlarmes  Wirbelwogen. 

The  orchestra  is  in  tumult,  relieved  only  by  a 
cry  of  agony  coming  from  Man;   even  the  sea 
no 


AS  COMPOSER 

theme  is  tossed  about,  and  the  Motif  of  Nature 
appears  in  mangled  form.  This  fury  lashes  it- 
self out  by  its  own  violence,  and  after  the  strings 
once  more  echo  the  cry  of  despair  all  is  silent. 
Two  light  blows  of  the  tam-tam  suggest  the  fear 
which  follows  upon  such  a  display  of  tempes- 
tuous terror, 

.  ,  .  warum  man  hier  ist,  was 

Der  Zweck  von  allem  diesen  endlich, 

Und  warum  Gott  .  .  , 

Bestandig  einet  zu  des  Liedes  Masston 

Sang  der  Natur  mit  seiner  Menschen  Schreinen, 

This  Warum  is  asked  dismally,  and  as  an  an- 
swer the  theme  of  Nature  reappears  in  its  bright- 
est garb.  Question  and  answer  succeed  each 
other,  and  are  stilled  by  the  recurring  cry  of 
Man  until  a  final  Why  is  followed  by  a  full  stop. 

The  poet,  weary  of  this  restlessness,  is  search- 
ing for  the  consolation  of  quietude;  and  here  — 
as  might  be  expected  of  Liszt  —  comes  the 
thought  of  religion  shown  by  the  Andante  re- 
ligioso.  It  is  here,  too,  in  the  realm  of  religious 
peace  that  the  two  antagonistic  voices  are  recon- 
ciled; they  interweave,  cross  and  are  melted,  one 
in  the  other. 

This,  the  most  intricate  and  longest  part  of  the 
score,  was  employed  by  Liszt  to  show  his  instru- 
mental mastery.  The  two  principal  themes  — 
the  two  voices  —  are  made  to  adjust  with  great 
skill,  and  are  then  sounded  simultaneously  to 
prove  their  striving  after  unity. 

Ill 


FRANZ  LISZT 

The  poet  is  almost  convinced  of  this  equalisa- 
tion, when,  without  warning  and  with  the  force 
of  the  full  orchestra,  brilliantly  employed,  a  new 
theme  appears.  This  is  repeated  with  even 
greater  frenzy  of  utterance,  and  usurps  the  theme 
of  Man  and  that  of  Nature.  The  whole  is  the 
idea  of  Faith,  at  which  the  poet  now  has  arrived. 
A  deep  satisfaction  silences  every  sound  —  the 
clashing  of  the  elements  ceases  and  the  last  sigh 
breathes  itself  out.  Once  more  the  plaintive 
"Why"  is  heard,  and  resolves  itself  in  a  remi- 
niscence of  Man's  fury.  The  trumpets  quiet 
all  by  intoning  that  sacrosanct  Andante  religi- 
oso,  which  concludes  in  a  mysterious  chord 
through  which  the  notes  of  the  harp  thread  them- 
selves. The  theme  of  Nature's  Hymn  returns 
pizzicato  in  the  basses,  and  is  answered  by  harp 
arpeggios  and  chords  in  the  brass.  A  few  taps 
of  the  tympani,  with  which  the  composition  ends, 
give  the  ring  of  finality. 

Arthur  Hahn  believes  that  this  symphonic 
poem  offers  a  solution  to  the  discord  of  the  uni- 
verse; that  the  ending  with  the  two  tympani  taps 
and  the  hollow  preceding  chords  suggest  a  possi- 
ble return  of  the  storm.  Liszt  made  numerous 
sketches  for  this  work  two  decades  before  its 
composition. 


112 


AS  COMPOSER 


TASSO 


For  the  Weimar  centennial  anniversary  of 
Goethe's  birth,  August  28,  1849,  Liszt  composed 
his  Tasso :  Lamento  e  Trionfo.  And  this  stands 
second  in  order  of  his  symphonic  poems.  At 
the  Weimar  festival  the  work  preceded  Goethe's 
Tasso,  being  played  as  an  overture. 

When  the  first  part  of  this  Tasso  symphonic 
poem  was  written  —  there  are  two  parts,  as  you 
will  see  later  —  Liszt  was  not  yet  bold  as  a  sym- 
phonic poet,  for  he  thought  it  necessary  to  define 
the  meaning  of  his  work  in  words  and  thus  ex- 
plain his  music. 

Liszt's  preface  to  Tasso  is  as  follows:  "I 
wished  to  define  the  contrast  expressed  in  the 
title  of  the  work,  and  it  was  my  object  to  de- 
scribe the  grand  antithesis  of  the  genius,  ill-used 
and  misunderstood  in  life,  but  in  death  sur- 
rounded with  a  halo  of  glory  whose  rays  were  to 
penetrate  the  hearts  of  his  persecutors.  Tasso 
loved  and  suffered  in  Ferrara,  was  avenged  in 
Rome,  and  lives  to  this  day  in  the  popular  songs 
of  Venice.  These  three  viewpoints  are  insepa- 
rably connected  with  his  career.  To  render  them 
musically  I  invoke  his  mighty  shadow,  as  he 
wanders  by  the  lagoons  of  Venice,  proud  and 
sad  in  countenance,  or  watching  the  feasts  at 
Ferrara,  where  his  master-works  were  created. 
I  followed  him  to  Rome,  the  Eternal  City,  which 
bestowed  upon  him  the  crown  of  glory,  and  in 
him  canonised  the  martyr  and  the  poet. 

"3 


FRANZ   LISZT 

"  Lamento  e  Trionfo  —  these  are  the  con- 
trasts in  the  fate  of  the  poet,  of  whom  it  was  said 
that,  although  the  curse  might  rest  upon  his  life, 
a  blessing  could  not  be  wanting  from  his  grave. 
In  order  to  give  to  my  idea  the  authority  of  liv- 
ing fact,  I  borrowed  the  form  of  my  tone  pic- 
ture from  reality,  and  chose  for  its  theme  a  mel- 
ody to  which,  three  centuries  after  the  poet's 
death,  I  have  heard  Venetian  gondoliers  sing 
the  first  strophes  of  his  Jerusalem: 

Canto  I'armi  pietose  e'l  Capitano, 
Che'l  gran  Sepolcro  liber5  di  Cristo. 

"The  motif  itself  has  a  slow,  plaintive  cadence 
of  monotonous  mourning;  the  gondoliers,  how- 
ever, by  drawling  certain  notes,  give  it  a  peculiar 
colouring,  and  the  mournfully  drawn  out  tones, 
heard  at  a  distance,  produce  an  eflfect  not  dis- 
similar to  the  reflection  of  long  stripes  of  fading 
light  upon  a  mirror  of  water.  This  song  once 
made  a  profound  impression  on  me,  and  when  I 
attempted  to  illustrate  Tasso  musically,  it  re- 
curred to  me  with  such  imperative  force  that  I 
made  it  the  chief  motif  for  my  composition. 

"The  Venetian  melody  is  so  replete  with  in- 
consolable mourning,  with  bitter  sorrow,  that  it 
suffices  to  portray  Tasso's  soul,  and  again  it 
yields  to  the  brilliant  deceits  of  the  world,  to  the 
illusive,  smooth  coquetry  of  those  smiles  whose 
slow  poison  brought  on  the  fearful  catastrophe, 
for  which  there  seemed  to  be  no  earthly  recom- 
114 


AS   COMPOSER 

pense,  but  which  was  eventually,  clothed  in  a 
mantle  of  brighter  purple  than  that  of  Alfonso." 

Following  this  came  —  in  later  years,  it  is  true 
—  a  strange  denial  from  Liszt  himself.  He  ad- 
mitted that  when  finally  his  Tasso  composi- 
tion began  to  take  form  Byron's  Tasso  was 
nearer  his  heart  and  thoughts  than  Goethe's. 
"I  cannot  deny,"  he  writes,  "that  when  I  re- 
ceived the  order  for  an  overture  to  Goethe's 
drama  the  chief  and  commanding  influence  on 
the  form  of  my  work  was  the  respectful  sympathy 
with  which  Byron  treated  the  manes  of  the  great 
poet." 

Naturally  this  influence  could  not  have  ex- 
tended beyond  the  Lamento  since  Byron's  poem 
is  only  the  Lament  of  Tasso,  and  has  no  share 
in  the  Trionfo.  Now  the  anti-programmites 
could  make  a  very  strong  case  out  of  this  in- 
cident, and  probably  would  have  done  so  long 
before  this  if  they  had  known  or  thought  about 
it.  But  then  this  question  of  the  fallibiHty  of 
programme  music  is  an  eternal  one.  Was  it 
not  the  late  Thayer,  constantly  haunting  detail 
and  in  turn  haunted  by  it,  who  could  not  abide 
Beethoven's  Coriolanus  in  his  youth  because 
he  only  knew  the  Shakespeare  drama  and  could 
not  fit  the  Beethoven  overture  to  it  simply  be- 
cause it  would  not  be  fitted?  And  now  some 
commentators  declare  that  Beethoven  must  have 
known  the  Shakespeare  work,  that  he  could  not 
have  found  his  inspiration  in  the  forgotten  play 
of  Von  Collin. 

"5 


FRANZ  LISZT 

Liszt's  Tasso  opens  with  a  descending  octaved 
theme  in  C  minor,  meant  to  depict  the  depressed 
mood  and  oppressed  station  of  the  poet.  Wag- 
ner has  made  mention  of  Liszt's  particular  apti- 
tude for  making  such  musical  moments  pregnant 
with  meaning.  Here  it  expresses  the  tragedy  of 
the  poet's  life,  and  a  second  theme  is  his  ago- 
nised cry.  Gradually  this  impatience  is  fanned 
to  fury,  and  culminates  in  a  wild  outbreak  of 
pain.  The  tragic  first  theme,  now  given  fortis- 
simo by  the  full  orchestra  and  long  sustained, 
spreads  its  shadow  over  all.  The  characteristic 
rehearsal  of  the  themes  concludes  the  introduc- 
tion to  the  work. 

With  an  adagio  the  principal  motif  is  heard  in 
full  for  the  first  time;  it  is  the  boat  song  of  the 
Venetian  gondoliers,  and  embraces  in  part  the 
first  tragic  theme  with  which  the  composition 
opened.  You  recall  what  Liszt  said  about  the 
expressiveness  of  this  sombre  song.  He  has 
heightened  its  gloom  by  the  moody  orchestration 
in  which  he  has  embedded  it. 

As  a  contrast  comes  the  belief  in  self  which 
forces  its  way  to  the  soul  of  the  poet,  and  this 
comes  to  our  ears  in  the  form  of  the  noble  main 
theme  —  the  Tasso  motif  —  which  now  sounds 
brilliantly  in  major.  These  two  moods  relieve 
one  another,  as  they  might  in  the  mind  of  any 
brooding  mortal,  especially  a  poet. 

The  next  picture  is  Tasso  at  the  court  of  Fer- 
rara.  The  courtly  life  is  sketched  in  a  minuet- 
like allegro  and  a  courteous  subsidiary.  How 
ii6 


AS  COMPOSER 

aptly  Tasso  is  carried  away  by  the  surrounding 
splendour  we  hear  when  the  Tasso  theme  sounds 
in  the  character  of  the  gay  minuet.  This  theme 
becomes  more  and  more  impassioned,  the  poet 
has  raised  his  eyes  to  Leonore,  and  the  inevita- 
ble calamity  precipitates  itself  with  the  recur- 
rence of  the  wild  and  frantic  burst  of  rage  and 
fury. 

Alles  ist  dahin !     Nur  eines  bleibt: 

Die  Thrane  hat  uns  die  Natur  verliehen, 

Den  Schrei  des  Schmerzes,  wenn  der  Mann  zuletzt 

Es  nicht  mehr  tragt. 

With  this,  the  first  half  of  the  first  part  of  the 
work  closes. 

The  second  half  concerns  itself  with  the  poet's 
transfiguration.  His  physical  self  has  been  sacri- 
ficed, but  the  world  has  taken  up  his  cause  and 
celebrates  his  works. 

A  short  pause  separates  the  two  divisions. 
Now  the  glorious  allegro  has  an  upward  swing, 
the  former  dragging  rhythms  are  spurned  along 
impetuously.  The  Tasso  theme  is  glorified,  the 
public  enthusiasm  grows  apace,  and  runs  to  a 
tremendous  climax  in  the  presto.  Then  there 
sounds  a  sudden  silence  —  the  public  pulse  has 
ceased  for  a  moment  —  followed  by  a  hymn, 
built  on  the  Tasso  theme.  The  entire  orchestra 
intones  this,  every  figure  is  one  of  jubilation,  save 
the  four  double  basses  which  recall  the  rhythm 
of  the  former  theme  of  misery;  but — notice  the 
logic  of  the  composer  —  its  resemblance  is  only 

117 


FRANZ  LISZT 

a  distant  one,  and  it  is  heard  only  in  the  lowest 
of  the  strings.     So  this  composition  concludes. 

The  Epilogue  to  the  Tasso  symphonic  poem 
was  written  many  years  afterward.  Liszt  called 
it  Le  Triomphe  fun^bre  du  Tasse,  and  its  first 
performance  was  under  Leopold  Damrosch  in 
New  York  in  1877.  The  subject  must  have  pur- 
sued Liszt  through  most  of  his  life,  and  he  seems 
to  have  felt  a  certain  affinity  with  the  dead  poet. 
We  all  know  that  the  public  denied  him  credit 
for  his  compositions. 

Gollerich  in  his  Liszt  biography  mentions  that 
once  during  his  stay  in  Italy  the  composer,  in  a 
covered  wagon,  had  himself  driven  slowly  over 
the  course  along  which  the  corpse  of  Tasso  had 
been  taken.  And  of  this  incident  he  is  supposed 
to  have  said:  "I  suffered  the  sad  poetry  of  this 
journey  in  the  hopes  that  one  day  the  bloody 
irony  of  vain  apotheosis  may  be  spared  every 
poet  and  artist  who  has  been  ill-treated  during 
life.     Rest  to  the  dead!" 

The  analysis  of  this  work  is  short  and  precise. 
The  musical  programme  is  simple.  It  opens 
with  a  cry  of  distressful  mourning,  while  from 
the  distance  the  cortege  approaches.  A  rem- 
iniscence of  the  Tasso  theme  is  recognisable  in 
this  pompous  approach  and  the  mood  changes 
to  one  of  triumph.  In  the  midst  of  all  this  the 
public  adoration  is  mingled  with  its  tears,  and 
the  two  climax  in  the  Tasso  motive. 


118 


AS  COMPOSER 

LES  PRELUDES 

The  third  of  Liszt's  symphonic  poems,  Les 
Preludes,  was  sketched  as  early  as  1845,  but  not 
produced  until  1854,  and  then  in  Weimar.  La- 
martine's  Meditations  Podtiques  set  the  bells 
tolling  in  Liszt's  mind,  and  he  wrote  Les  Pre- 
ludes. "  What  is  life  but  a  series  of  preludes  to 
that  unknown  song  whose  initial  solemn  note  is 
tolled  by  Death  ?  The  enchanted  dawn  of  every 
life  is  love;  but  where  is  the  destiny  on  whose  first 
delicious  joys  some  storm  does  not  break  ?  —  a 
storm  whose  deadly  blast  disperses  youth's  illu- 
sions, whose  fatal  bolt  consumes  its  altar.  And 
what  soul  thus  cruelly  bruised,  when  the  tempest 
rolls  away,  seeks  not  to  rest  its  memories  in  the 
calm  of  rural  life  ?  Yet  man  allows  himself  not 
long  to  taste  the  kindly  quiet  which  first  at- 
tracted him  to  Nature's  lap;  but  when  the  trum- 
pet gives  the  signal  he  hastens  to  danger's  post, 
whatever  be  the  fight  which  draws  him  to  its  lists, 
that  in  the  strife  he  may  once  more  regain  full 
knowledge  of  himself  and  all  his  strength." 

Corresponding  to  the  first  line  of  the  pro- 
gramme the  composition  opens  promisingly  with 
an  ascending  figure  in  the  strings,  followed  by 
some  mysterious  chords.  Liszt  had  that  won- 
derful knack  —  which  he  shared  with  Beethoven 
and  Wagner  —  of  getting  atmosphere  immedi- 
ately at  the  first  announcement.  Gradually  he 
achieves  a  climax  with  this  device,  and  now  he 
119 


FRANZ  LISZT 

has  pictured  the  character —  his  hero  —  in  defiant 
possession  of  full  manhood. 

"The  enchanted  dawn  of  every  life  is  love" 
reads  the  line,  and  the  music  grows  sentimental. 
That  well-known  horn  melody  occurs  here,  a 
theme  almost  the  character  of  a  folk-song;  then 
the  mood  becomes  even  more  tranquil  until  — 

"But  where  is  the  destiny  on  whose  first  de- 
licious joys  some  storm  does  not  break  ?  —  a 
storm  whose  deadly  blast  disperses  youth's  il- 
lusions, whose  fatal  bolt  consumes  its  altar." 
Here  was  one  of  those  episodes  on  which  Liszt 
doted,  a  place  where  he  could  unloose  all  his  or- 
chestral technique,  piling  his  climaxes  furiously 
high. 

"And  what  soul  thus  cruelly  bruised,  when 
the  tempest  rolls  away,  seeks  not  to  rest  its  mem- 
ories in  the  pleasant  calm  of  rural  life  ?"  There 
was  nothing  else  for  Liszt  to  do  but  to  write  the 
usual  pastoral  peace  dignified  by  Handel  and 
Watteau. 

"  Yet  man  allowed  himself  not  long  to  taste  the 
kindly  quiet  which  first  attracted  him  to  Nature's 
lap;  but  when  the  trumpet  gives  the  signal  he 
hastens  to  danger's  post,  whatever  be  the  fight 
which  draws  him  to  its  lists,  that  in  the  strife  he 
may  once  more  regain  full  knowledge  of  himself 
and  all  his  strength."  The  martial  call  of  the 
trumpets  and  the  majestic  strife  is  made  much  of. 
Liszt  tortures  his  peaceful  motives  into  expres- 
sing war,  and  welds  the  entire  incident  into  a  stir- 
ring one. 

I20 


AS  COMPOSER 

Logically,  he  concludes  the  work  by  recalling 
the  theme  of  his  hero  upon  whose  life  he  has 
preluded  so  tunefully. 

ORPHEUS 

Of  the  origin  of  his  Orpheus  Liszt  writes: 
"Some  years  ago,  when  preparing  Gluck's  Or- 
pheus for  production,  I  could  not  restrain  my  im- 
agination from  straying  away  from  the  simple 
version  that  the  great  master  had  made  of  the 
subject,  but  turned  to  that  Orpheus  whose  name 
hovers  majestically  and  full  of  harmony  about 
the  Greek  myths.  It  recalled  that  Etruscan  vase 
in  the  Louvre  which  represents  the  poet-musician 
crowned  with  the  mystic  kingly  wreath;  draped 
in  a  star-studded  mantle,  his  fine  slender  fingers 
are  plucking  the  lyre  strings,  while  his  lips  are 
liberating  godly  words  and  song.  The  very 
stones  seem  moved  to  hearing,  and  from  adamant 
hearts  stinging,  burning  tears  are  loosing  them- 
selves. The  beasts  of  the  forests  stand  enchanted, 
and  the  coarse  noise  of  man  is  besieged  into  si- 
lence. The  song  of  birds  is  hushed;  the  melodi- 
ous coursing  of  the  brook  halts;  the  rude  laughter 
of  joy  gives  way  to  a  trembling  awe  before  these 
sounds,  which  reveal  to  man  universal  harmo- 
nies, the  gentle  power  of  art  and  the  brilliancy  of 
their  glory." 

The  "dull  and  prosaic  formula"  —  so  some 
English  critic  put  it  —  differs  in  this  work  from 
that  of  most  of  the  others  of  Liszt's  symphonic 

121 


FRANZ  LISZT 

poems.  The  short  cutting  themes  are  absent 
and  sharp  contrasts  are  generally  avoided;  the 
music  flows  rather  in  a  broad  melodic  stream, 
serene  but  magnificent.  It  is  rather  difficult  to 
fit  a  detailed  programme  to  the  composition,  and 
the  general  outline  is  not  so  sharply  dented  with 
incidents  as  some  of  the  others. 

Again  atmosphere  is  evoked  and  the  mood 
achieved  by  the  lyre  preluding  of  the  poet.  Then 
the  voice  of  Orpheus  rises  with  majestic  calm, 
and  swells  to  a  cHmax  which  is  typical  of  the  ma- 
jestic splendour  of  art.  This  sweeps  all  sounds 
of  opposition  before  it  and  leaves  in  its  trail 
awe-stricken  man.  It  is  with  this  mood  that  the 
work  closes  in  a  marvellous  progression  of  chords, 
harmonies  daring  for  their  day. 


PROMETHEUS 

The  same  general  plan  of  conception  and  inter- 
pretation, but  of  course  much  more  heroic,  has 
Liszt  employed  in  the  next  symphonic  poem, 
Prometheus.  It  is  a  noble  figure  that  Liszt 
has  translated  into  music,  the  Titan.  The  ideas 
he  meant  to  convey  may  be  summed  up  in  "  Ein 
tiefer  Schmerz,  der  durch  trotzbietendes  Aushar- 
ren  triumphiert."  Immediately  at  the  opening 
the  swirl  of  the  struggle  is  upon  us,  and  the  first 
theme  is  the  defiance  of  the  Titan  —  a  noble  yet 
obstinate  melody.  The  god  is  chained  to  the 
rock  to  great  orchestral  tumult.     His  efforts  to 

122 


AS   COMPOSER 

break  the  manacles  incite  further  musical  riot; 
and  then  comes  the  wail  of  helpless  misery: 

O  Mutter,  du  Heil'ge!    O  Aether, 

Lichtquell  des  All's! 

Seh,  welch  Unrecht  ich  erdulde! 

This  recitative  leads  into  a  furious  burst  when 
the  shackled  one  clenches  his  fists  and  threatens 
all  Godhead.     Even  Zeus  is  defied: 

Und  mag  er  schleudern  seines  feurigen  Blitzes  Loh'n, 
In  weissen  Schneesturms  Ungewittern,  in  Donnerhall 
Der  unterirdischen  Tiefe  werwirren  mischen  das  All: 
Nichts  dessen  wird  mir  beugen! 

Then  arises  the  belief  in  a  deliverer,  a  faith 
motif  which  is  one  of  those  heartfelt  inventions 
of  the  melodic  Liszt.  After  this  the  struggle  con- 
tinues. Magnificently,  the  god,  believing  in  his 
own  obstinate  will  for  freedom,  the  composition 
concludes  on  this  supreme  note. 

MAZEPPA 

The  sixth  of  Liszt's  symphonic  poems,  Ma- 
zeppa,  has  done  more  than  any  other  to  earn  for 
its  composer  the  disparaging  comment  that  his 
piano  music  was  orchestral  and  his  orchestral 
music  Klaviermassig.  This  Solomon  judgment 
usually  proceeds  from  the  wise  ones,  who  are 
aware  that  the  first  form  of  Liszt's  Mazeppa 
was  a  piano  etude  which  appeared  somewhere 
toward  the  end  of  1830. 

123 


FRANZ  LISZT 

Liszt's  orchestral  version  of  Mazeppa  was 
completed  the  middle  of  last  century  and  had  its 
first  hearing  at  Weimar  in  1854.  Naturally  this 
is  a  work  of  much  greater  proportion  than  the 
original  piano  etude;  it  is,  as  some  one  has  said, 
in  the  same  ratio  as  is  a  panoramic  picture  to  a 
preliminary  sketch. 

The  story  of  the  Cossack  hetman  has  inspired 
poets  and  at  least  one  painter.     Horace  Vemet 

—  who,  as  Heine  said,  painted  everything  hastily, 
almost  after  the  manner  of  a  maker  of  pamphlets 

—  put  the  subject  on  canvas  twice;  the  Russian, 
Bulgarin,  made  a  novel  of  it;  Voltaire  mentioned 
the  incident  in  his  History  of  Charles  the  Twelfth; 
Byron  moulded  the  tale  into  rhyme,  as  did  Victor 
Hugo  —  and  the  latter  poem  was  used  by  Liszt 
for  the  outline  for  his  composition. 

The  amorous  Mazeppa  was  of  noble  birth  — 
so  runs  the  tale.  But  while  he  was  page  to  Jan 
Casimir,  King  of  Poland,  he  intrigued  with 
Theresia  the  young  wife  of  a  Podolian  count. 
Their  love  was  discovered  and  the  count  had  the 
page  lashed  to  a  wild  horse  —  un  cheval  farouche, 
as  Voltaire  has  it  —  which  was  turned  loose. 

From  all  accounts  the  beast  did  not  allow  grass 
to  grow  under  its  hoofs,  but  lashed  out  with  the 
envious  speed  of  the  wind.  It  so  happened  that 
the  horse  was  "a  noble  steed,  a  Tartar  of  the 
Ukraine  breed."  Therefore  it  headed  for  the 
Ukraine,  which  woolly  country  it  reached  with 
its  burden;   then  it  promptly  dropped  dead. 

Mazeppa  was  unhanded  or  unhorsed  by  a 
124 


AS  COMPOSER 

friendly  Cossack  and  nursed  back  to  happiness. 
Soon  he  grew  in  stature  and  in  power,  becoming 
an  Ukraine  prince ;  as  the  latter  he  fought  against 
Russia  at  Pultowa. 

That  is  the  skeleton  of  the  legend.  Liszt  has 
begun  his  musical  tale  at  the  point  when  Mazeppa 
is  corded  to  the  furious  steed,  and  with  a  cry  it  is 
off.  This  opens  the  composition;  there  follow 
the  galloping  triplets  to  mark  the  flight  of  the 
beast,  irregular  and  wild.  Trees  and  mountains 
seem  to  whirl  by  them  —  this  is  represented  by 
a  vertiginous  tremolo  figure,  against  which  a  de- 
scending theme  sounds  and  seems  to  give  per- 
spective to  the  swirling  landscape. 

When  the  prisoner  stirs  convulsively  in  the 
agony  of  his  plight,  the  horse  bounds  forward 
even  more  recklessly.  The  fury  of  the  ride  con- 
tinues, increases,  until  Mazeppa  loses  conscious- 
ness and  mists  becloud  his  senses.  Now  and 
again  pictures  appear  before  his  eyes  an  instant 
as  in  a  dream  fantastic. 

Gradually,  as  an  accompaniment  to  the  thun- 
dering hoof  falls,  the  passing  earth  sounds  as  a 
mighty  melody  to  the  dehrious  one.  The  entire 
plain  seems  to  ring  with  song,  pitying  Mazeppa 
in  his  suffering. 

The  horse  continues  to  plunge  and  blood  pours 
from  the  wounds  of  the  prisoner.  Before  his  eyes 
the  lights  dance  and  the  themes  return  distorted. 
The  goal  is  reached  when  the  steed  breaks  down, 
overcome  with  the  killing  fatigue  of  its  three  days' 
ride.  It  pants  its  last,  and  a  plaintive  andante 
125 


FRANZ  LISZT 

pictures  the  groaning  of  the  bound  Mazeppa;  this 
dies  away  in  the  basses. 

Now  the  musician  soars  away  in  the  ether. 
When  he  returns  to  us  it  is  with  an  allegro  of 
trumpet  calls.  Mazeppa  has  been  made  a  prince 
in  the  interim  and  is  now  leading  the  warriors  of 
the  steppe  who  freed  him.  These  fanfares  lead 
to  a  triumphal  march,  which  is  the  last  division 
of  the  composition.  Local  colour  is  logically 
brought  in  by  the  introduction  of  a  Cossack 
march;  the  Mazeppa  theme  is  jubilantly  shared 
by  trumpet  calls,  and  the  motif  of  his  sufferings 
appears  transformed  as  a  melody  of  victory  — 
all  this  in  barbaric  rhythms. 

In  form  the  work  is  free ;  two  general  divisions 
are  about  as  much  as  it  yields  to  the  formal  dis- 
sector. It  follows  the  poem,  and,  having  been 
written  to  the  poem,  that  is  really  all  the  sequence 
demanded  by  logic. 

Liszt  was  decidedly  at  a  disadvantage  as  a  com- 
poser when  he  lacked  a  programme.  Usually  in 
composing  his  purpose  was  so  distinct,  the  music 
measuring  itself  so  neatly  against  the  logic  of 
the  programme,  that  his  symphonic  compositions 
should  be  most  easily  comprehended  by  an  audi- 
ence. 

FESTKLANGE 

There  is  no  definite  programme  to  Liszt's 
Festklange.  Several  probing  ones  have  been  hot 
on  the  trail  of  such  a  thing.     Pohl  knew  but 

196 


AS  COMPOSER 

would  not  tell.  He  wrote:  "This  work  is  the 
most  intimate  of  the  entire  group.  It  stands  in 
close  relation  with  some  personal  experiences  of 
the  composer  —  something  which  we  will  not  de- 
fine more  clearly  here.  For  this  reason  Liszt 
himself  has  offered  no  elucidation  to  the  work, 
and  we  must  respect  his  silence.  The  mood  of 
the  work  is  '  Festlich '  —  it  is  the  rejoicing  after 
a  victory  of  —  the  heart." 

This  is  mysterious  and  sentimental  enough  to 
satisfy  any  conservatory  maiden.  But  Liszt  died 
eventually,  and  then  Pohl  intimates  that  the  in- 
cident which  this  composition  was  meant  to  glo- 
rify was  the  marriage  of  Liszt  with  the  Princess 
Sayn- Wittgenstein  —  a  marriage  which  never 
came  off. 

Philip  Hale  has  taken  up  the  question  in  his 
interesting  Boston  Symphony  Programme  Notes, 
and  summons  several  witnesses:  "Brendel  said 
that  this  symphonic  poem  is  a  sphinx  that  no  one 
can  understand.  Mr.  Barry,  who  takes  a  pecul- 
iarly serious  view  of  all  things  musical,  claims 
that  Festival  Sounds,  Sounds  of  Festivity  or 
Echoes  of  a  Festival  is  the  portrayal  in  music  of 
scenes  that  illustrate  some  great  national  festival; 
that  the  introduction,  with  its  fanfares,  gives  rise 
to  strong  feelings  of  expectation.  There  is  a 
proclamation,  'The  festival  has  begun,'  and  he 
sees  the  reception  of  guests  in  procession.  The 
event  is  great  and  national  —  a  coronation  — 
something  surely  of  a  royal  character;  and  there 
is  hoUday  making  until  the  'tender,  recitative- 

127 


FRANZ  LISZT 

like  period'  hints  at  a  love  scene;  guests,  some- 
what stiff  and  formal,  move  in  the  dance;  in  the 
finale  the  first  subject  takes  the  form  of  a  na- 
tional anthem. 

"  Some  have  thought  that  Liszt  composed  the 
piece  in  honour  of  the  fiftieth  anniversary  of  the 
entrance  into  Weimar  of  his  friend  and  patroness 
Maria  Paulowna,  sister  of  the  Czar  Nicholas  I, 
Grand  Duchess  of  Weimar.  The  anniversary 
was  celebrated  with  pomp  November  9,  1854,  as 
half  a  century  before  the  noble  dame  was  greeted 
with  Schiller's  lyric  festival  play  Die  Huldigung 
der  Kiinste. 

"This  explanation  is  plausible;  but  Lina  Ra- 
mann  assures  us  that  Festklange  was  intended 
by  Liszt  as  the  wedding  music  for  himself  and 
the  Princess  Carolyne  Sayn- Wittgenstein;  that 
in  1851  it  seemed  as  though  the  obstacles  to  the 
union  would  disappear;  that  this  music  was  com- 
posed as  *a  song  of  triumph  over  hostile  mach- 
inations'; 'bitterness  and  anguish  are  forgotten 
in  proud  rejoicing';  the  introduced  'Polonaise' 
pictures  the  brilliant  mind  of  the  Polish  prin- 
cess." 

When  this  symphonic  poem  was  first  played  in 
Vienna  there  were  distributed  handbills  written 
by  "Herr  K.,"  that  the  hearers  might  find  rea- 
sonable pleasure  in  the  music.  One  of  the  sen- 
tences goes  bounding  through  the  universe  as  fol- 
lows: "A  great  universal  and  popular  festival 
calls  within  its  magic  circle  an  agitated  crowd, 
joy  on  the  brow,  heaven  in  the  breast." 
128 


AS  COMPOSER 

In  whichever  class  you  choose  to  place  the 
Festklange — whether  in  that  of  a  higher  grade 
of  wedding  music  or  as  music  incidental  to  some 
national  event  —  you  are  apt  to  find  contra- 
dictions in  the  music  itself.  So  it  is  most  rea- 
sonable to  waive  the  entire  question  of  a  pro- 
gramme here,  and  take  the  music  at  its  word.  It 
must  be  admitted  that  this  composition  is  not 
among  Liszt's  great  ones;  the  big  swing  is  miss- 
ing and  honesty  compels  the  acknowledgment 
that  much  of  it  is  blank  bombast,  some  of  it 
tawdry. 

The  introductory  allegro  is  devoted  to  some 
tympani  thumps  —  k  la  Meyerbeer  —  and  some 
blaring  fanfares  which  terminate  in  a  loud,  bla- 
tant theme. 

Then  comes  the  andante  with  the  principal 
subject  of  the  work,  meant  to  be  impressive,  but 
failing  in  its  purpose.  The  mood  changes  and 
grows  humourous,  which  again  is  contrasted  by 
the  following  rather  melancholy  allegretto.  This 
latter  spot  would  serve  to  knock  some  of  the  festi- 
val programme  ideas  into  a  cocked  hat. 

The  work  eventually  launches  into  a  polonaise, 
and  until  the  close  Liszt  busies  himself  with  vary- 
ing the  character  and  rhythms  of  the  foregoing 
themes.  Finally  the  martial  prevails  again,  deco- 
rated with  fanfares,  and  thus  the  composition 
closes. 

Festklange  had  its  first  performance  at  Wei- 
mar in  1854;  but  the  composer  made  some 
changes  in  the  later  edition  that  appeared  in 
129 


FRANZ  LISZT 

1 86 1,  and  this  version  is  the  one  usually  played 
to-day. 

A  Liszt  work  which  we  seldom  hear  is  "Chore 
zu  Herder's  *  Entfesselte  Prometheus,'  "  which 
was  composed  and  performed  in  Weimar  in  1850. 

On  August  25  of  that  year  there  was  a  monu- 
ment unveiled  to  Johann  Gottfried  Herder  in 
Weimar,  and  the  memory  of  the  "apostle  of  hu- 
manity "  was  also  celebrated  in  the  theatre.  This 
accounts  for  the  composition  of  the  symphonic 
poem  Prometheus,  which  served  as  an  overture 
to  these  choruses,  written  for  voices  and  orchestra. 
Richard  Pohl  has  put  the  latter  into  shape  for 
solitary  performance  in  the  concert  room. 

Prometheus  sits  manacled  on  the  rock,  but  the 
fury  of  his  rebellion  is  over.  Resolutely  he  awaits 
the  decree  of  fate.  At  this  point  the  Liszt  work 
takes  up  the  narrative.  The  Titan  is  soliloquis- 
ing, while  man,  aided  by  the  gift  of  fire,  is  calmly 
possessing  the  world.  The  elemental  spirits  look 
enviously  at  the  power  of  man  and  turn  to  Pro- 
metheus with  plaints;  the  Daughters  of  the  Sea 
lament  that  the  holy  peace  of  the  sea  is  disturbed 
by  man,  who  sails  the  water  imperiously.  Pro- 
metheus answers  Okeanus  philosophically  that 
everything  belongs  to  every  one. 

Then  the  chorus  of  the  Tritons  glorifies  the  so- 
cialistic Titan  with  "Heil  Prometheus."  This 
dies  away  to  make  room  for  the  grumbling  of  All- 
Mother  Erda  and  her  dryads,  who  bring  charge 
against  the  fire  giver.  An  answer  comes  from 
the  bucolic  chorus  of  reapers  and  their  brothers 
130 


AS   COMPOSER 

the  vintagers,  who  chant  the  praise  of  "Mon- 
sieur" Bacchus. 

From  the  under  world  comes  the  sound  of 
strife,  and  Hercules  arises  as  victor.  Prome- 
theus recognises  him  as  the  liberator,  and  the 
Sandow  of  mythology  breaks  the  Titan's  fetters 
and  slays  the  hovering  eagle  of  Zeus.  The  freed 
Prometheus  turns  to  the  rocks  on  which  he  has 
sat  prisoner  so  long  and  asks  that  in  gratitude 
for  his  liberty  a  paradise  arise  there.  Pallas 
Athene  respects  the  wish,  and  out  of  the  naked 
rock  sprouts  an  olive  tree. 

A  chorus  of  the  Invisible  Ones  invites  Prome- 
theus to  attend  before  the  throne  of  Themis.  She 
intercedes  in  his  behalf  against  his  accusers,  and 
the  Chorus  of  Humanity  celebrates  her  judgment 
in  the  hymn  which  closes  "Heil  Prometheus! 
Der  Menschheit  Heil!"  Some  of  the  thematic 
material  for  these  choruses  and  orchestral  inter- 
ludes is  borrowed  from  the  symphonic  poem 
Prometheus. 

Liszt  wrote  a  preface  to  H^roide  Funebre,  his 
eighth  poem  (1849-1850;  1856.)  Among  other 
things  he  declares  that  "  Everything  may  change 
in  human  societies  —  manners  and  cult,  laws  and 
ideas;  sorrow  remains  always  one  and  the  same, 
it  remains  what  it  has  been  from  the  beginning 
of  time.  It  is  for  art  to  throw  its  transfiguring 
veil  over  the  tomb  of  the  brave  —  to  encircle  with 
its  golden  halo  the  dead  and  the  dying,  in  order 
that  they  may  be  envied  by  the  living."  Liszt 
incorporated  with  this  poem  a  fragment  from 

131 


FRANZ  LISZT 

his  Revolutionary  Symphony  outhned  in  1830. 
Hungaria  (1854;  1857)  and  Hamlet  (1858;  1861) 
the  ninth  and  tenth  poems  are  not  of  marked 
interest  or  novel  character  —  that  is  when  com- 
pared to  their  predecessors.  There  is  a  so-called 
poem,  From  the  Cradle  to  the  Grave,  the  thir- 
teenth in  the  series,  one  which  did  not  take  seri- 
ously. It  is  quite  brief.  But  let  us  consider  the 
eleventh  and  twelfth  of  the  series. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  HUNS 

Liszt's  Hunnenschlacht  was  suggested  by  Wil- 
helm  von  Kaulbach's  mural  painting  in  the  stair- 
case-hall of  the  New  Museum  in  Berlin.  It  was 
conceived  in  Munich  in  November,  1856,  and 
written  in  1857.  When  completed,  it  was  put 
into  rehearsal  at  Weimar  in  October,  1857,  and 
performed  in  April,  1858.  Its  first  performance 
in  Boston,  was  under  Mr.  Theodore  Thomas  in 
1872. 

The  picture  which  suggested  this  composition 
to  Liszt  shows  the  city  of  Rome  in  the  back- 
ground; before  it  is  a  battle-field,  strewn  with 
corpses  which  are  seen  to  be  gradually  reviving, 
rising  up,  and  rallying,  while  among  them  wan- 
der waihng  and  lamenting  women.  At  the  heads 
of  two  ghostly  armies  are  respectively  Attila  — 
borne  aloft  on  a  shield  by  Huns,  and  wielding  a 
scourge  —  and  Theodoric  with  his  two  sons,  be- 
hind whom  is  raised  the  banner  of  the  cross. 
132 


AS  COMPOSER      , 

The  composition  is  perfectly  free  in  form;  one 
noteworthy  feature  being  the  interweaving  of  the 
choral  Crux  Fidelis  with  themes  of  the  composer's 
own  invention.     The  score  bears  no  dedication. 


DIE  IDEALE 

Die  Ideale  was  projected  in  the  summer  of 
1856,  but  it  was  composed  in  1857.  The  first 
performance  was  at  Weimar,  September  5,  1857, 
on  the  occasion  of  unveiling  the  Goethe-Schiller 
monument.  The  first  performance  in  Boston  was 
by  Theodore  Thomas's  orchestra,  October  6, 
1870.  The  symphonic  poem  was  played  here 
at  a  Symphony  Concert  on  January  26,  1889. 

The  argument  of  Schiller's  poem,  Die  Ideale, 
first  published  in  the  Musenalmanach  of  1796,  has 
thus  been  presented:  "The  sweet  belief  in  the 
dream-created  beings  of  youth  passes  away;  what 
once  was  divine  and  beautiful,  after  which  we 
strove  ardently,  and  which  we  embraced  lovingly 
with  heart  and  mind,  becomes  the  prey  of  hard 
reality;  already  midway  the  boon  companions  — 
love,  fortune,  fame,  and  truth  —  leave  us  one 
after  another,  and  only  friendship  and  activity 
remain  with  us  as  loving  comforters."  Lord  Lyt- 
ton  characterised  the  poem  as  an  "elegy  on  de- 
parted youth." 

Yet  Liszt  departed  from  the  spirit  of  the  elegy, 
for  in  a  note  to  the  concluding  section  of  the  work, 
the  Apotheosis,  he  says:   "The  holding  fast  and 


FRANZ  LISZT 

at  the  same  time  the  continual  realising  of  the 
ideal  is  the  highest  aim  of  our  life.  In  this  sense 
I  ventured  to  supplement  Schiller's  poem  by  a 
jubilantly  emphasising  resumption  of  the  motives 
of  the  first  section  in  the  closing  Apotheosis." 
Mr.  Niecks,  in  his  comments  on  this  symphonic 
poem,  adds:  "To  support  his  view  and  justify 
the  alteration,  Liszt  might  have  referred  to  Jean 
Paul  Richter's  judgment,  that  the  conclusion  of 
the  poem,  pointing  as  it  does  for  consolation  to 
friendship  and  activity,  comforts  but  scantily  and 
unpoetically.  Indeed,  Schiller  himself  called  the 
conclusion  of  the  poem  tame,  but  explained  that 
it  was  a  faithful  picture  of  human  life,  adding: 
*I  wished  to  dismiss  the  reader  with  this  feeling 
of  tranquil  contentment.'  That,  apart  from  po- 
etical considerations,  Liszt  acted  wisely  as  a 
musician  in  making  the  alteration  will  be  easily 
understood  and  readily  admitted.  Among  the 
verses  quoted  by  the  composer,  there  are  eight 
which  were  omitted  by  Schiller  in  the  ultimate 
amended  form  of  Die  Ideale.  The  order  of  suc- 
cession, however,  is  not  the  same  as  in  the  poem; 
what  is  I,  2,  3,  4,  5  with  Liszt  is  i,  4,  3,  2,  5  with 
Schiller.  The  musician  seized  the  emotional  pos- 
sibihties  of  the  original,  but  disregarded  the  log- 
ical sequence.  And  there  are  many  things  which 
the  tone  poet  who  works  after  the  word  poet  not 
only  may  but  must  disregard.  As  the  two  arts 
differ  in  their  nature,  the  one  can  be  only  an  im- 
perfect translator  of  the  other;  but  they  can  be 
more  than  translators  —  namely,  commentators. 

134 


AS  COMPOSER 

Liszt  accordingly  does  not  follow  the  poem  word 
for  word,  but  interprets  the  feelings  which  it  sug- 
gests, '  feelings  which  almost  all  of  us  have  felt  in 
the  progress  of  life.'  Indeed,  programme  and 
music  can  never  quite  coincide ;  they  are  like  two 
disks  that  partly  cover  each  other,  partly  overlap 
and  fall  short.  Liszt's  Die  Ideale  is  no  exception. 
Therefore  it  may  not  be  out  of  place  to  warn  the 
hearer,  although  this  is  less  necessary  in  the  pres- 
ent case  than  in  others,  against  forming  '  a  grossly 
material  conception  of  the  programme,'  against 
'an  abstractly  logical  interpretation  which  allows 
itself  to  be  deceived  by  the  outside,  by  what  pre- 
sents itself  to  the  first  glance,  disdains  the  media- 
tion of  the  imagination.'  " 

Mr.  Hale  gives  some  interesting  facts  about  the 
composition. 

Liszt  and  Princess  Carolyne  Sayn- Wittgen- 
stein were  both  ill  in  the  spring  of  1857,  and  the 
letters  written  by  Liszt  to  her  during  this  period 
are  of  singular  interest.  Yet  Liszt  went  about 
and  conducted  performances  until  he  suffered 
from  an  abscess  in  a  leg  and  was  obliged  to  lie  in 
bed.  On  the  30th  of  January  Liszt  had  written 
to  a  woman,  the  anonymous  "Friend":  "For 
Easter  I  shall  have  finished  Die  Ideale  (symphony 
in  three  movements)";  and  in  March  he  wrote 
the  princess  that  he  was  dreaming  of  Die  Ideale. 
In  May  he  went  to  Aix-la-Chapelle  to  conduct 
at  a  music  festival,  and  in  July  he  returned  to  that 
town  for  medical  treatment.  He  wrote  the  prin- 
cess (July  23)  that  he  had  completed  the  indica- 

^35 


FRANZ  LISZT 

tions,  the  "nuances,"  of  the  score  that  morning, 
and  he  wished  her  to  see  that  the  copyist  should 
prepare  the  parts  immediately  —  six  first  vio- 
lins, six  second  violins,  four  violas,  and  five 
double  basses. 

The  performance  at  Weimar  excited  neither 
fierce  opposition  nor  warm  appreciation.  Liszt 
conducted  the  work  at  Prague,  March  ii,  1858, 
and  it  appears  from  a  letter  to  the  Princess  that 
he  made  cuts  and  alterations  in  the  score  after 
the  performance.  Hans  von  Biilow  produced 
Die  Ideale  at  Berlin  in  1859,  and  the  performance 
stirred  up  strife.  Biilow  thought  the  work  too 
long  for  the  opening  piece,  and  preferred  to  put 
it  in  the  second  part.  Then  he  changed  his  mind; 
he  remembered  that  Liszt's  Festklange  was  at  the 
end  of  a  concert  the  year  before  in  Berlin,  and  that 
many  of  the  audience  found  it  convenient  to  leave 
the  hall  for  the  cloak-room  during  the  perform- 
ance. A  few  days  later  he  wrote  that  he  would 
put  it  at  the  end  of  the  first  part:  "My  first  re- 
hearsal lasted  four  hours.  The  parts  of  Die 
Ideale  are  very  badly  copied.  It  is  a  magnificent 
work,  and  the  form  is  splendid.  In  this  respect 
I  prefer  it  to  Tasso,  to  The  Preludes,  and  to  other 
symphonic  poems.  It  has  given  me  an  enormous 
pleasure  —  I  was  happier  than  I  have  been  for 
a  long  time.  Apropos  —  a  passage,  where  the 
basses  and  the  trombones  give  the  theme  of  the 
Allegro,  a  passage  that  is  found  several  times  in 
the  parts  is  cut  out  in  the  printed  score. "  Ra- 
magn  names  1859  as  the  date  of  publication, 

136 


AS   COMPOSER 

while  others  say  the  score  was  published  in  1858. 
"I  have  left  this  passage  as  it  is  in  the  arts;  for  I 
find  it  excellent,  and  the  additional  length  of  time 
in  performance  will  be  hardly  appreciable.  It 
will  go,  I  swear  it!"  The  concert  was  on  Jan- 
uary 14,  1859,  and  when  some  hissed  after  the 
performance  of  Die  Ideale,  Bulow  asked  them 
to  leave  the  hall.  A  sensation  was  made  by 
this  "maiden  speech,"  as  it  was  called.  (See 
the  pamphlet,  Hans  v.  Biilow  und  die  Berliner 
Kritik,  Berlin,  1859,  and  Billow's  Briefe,  vol.  iii. 
pp.  202,  203,  205,  206,  Leipsic,  1898.)  Biilow 
was  cool  as  a  cucumber,  and  directed  the  next 
piece.  Introduction  to  Lohengrin,  as  though  noth- 
ing had  happened.  The  Princess  of  Prussia  left 
her  box,  for  it  was  nine  o'clock,  the  hour  of  tea; 
but  there  was  no  explosion  till  after  the  concert, 
when  Biilow  was  abused  roundly  by  newspaper 
article  and  word  of  mouth.  He  had  promised 
to  play  two  piano  pieces  at  a  Domchoir  concert 
the  2 2d,  and  it  was  understood  that  he  would 
then  be  hissed  and  hooted.  The  report  sold  all 
the  seats  and  standing  places.  Never  had  he 
played  so  well,  and  instead  of  a  scandalous  ex- 
hibition of  disapproval  there  was  the  heartiest 
applause.  Liszt  conducted  Die  Ideale  at  Billow's 
concert  in  Berlin  on  February  27  of  that  year, 
and  there  was  then  not  a  suspicion  of  opposition 
to  work  or  composer. 

Biilow  after  the  first  performance  at  Berlin  ad- 
vised Liszt  to  cut  out  the  very  last  measures.  "I 
love  especially  the  thirds  in  the  kettle-drums,  as  a 

137 


FRANZ  LISZT 

new  and  bold  invention  —  but  I  find  them  a  lit- 
tle too  ear-boxing  for  cowardly  ears.  ...  I  know 
positively  that  these  eight  last  drumbeats  have 
especially  determined  or  rather  emboldened  the 
opposition  to  manifestation.  And  so,  if  you  do 
not  find  positive  cowardice  in  my  request  —  put 
these  two  measures  on  my  back  —  do  as  though 
I  had  had  the  impertinence  to  add  them  as  my 
own.     I  almost  implore  this  of  you!" 

In  1863  Billow  sent  Louis  Kohler  his  latest 
photograph,  "Souvenir  du  14  Janvier,  1859."  I^ 
represents  him  standing,  baton  in  hand;  on  a 
conductor's  desk  is  the  score  of  Die  Ideale,  and 
there  is  this  inscription  to  Liszt:  "  ' Suh  hoc  signo 
viciy  nee  vincere  desistam.'  to  his  Master,  his  ar- 
tistic Ideal,  with  thanks  and  veneration  out  of  a 
full  heart.  Hans  v.  Biilow,  Berlin,  October  22, 
1863."  Liszt  wrote  Biilow  from  Budapest  (Janu- 
ary 3,  1873) :  "You  know  I  profess  not  to  collect 
photographs,  and  in  my  house  portraits  do  not 
serve  as  ornaments.  At  Rome  I  had  only  two 
in  my  chamber;  yours  —  that  of  Die  Ideale,  'Sub 
hoc  signo  vici,  nee  vincere  desistam^  —  was  one  of 
them." 

It  appears  that  others  wished  to  tinker  the 
score  of  this  symphonic  poem.  Biilow  wrote  the 
Princess  Carolyne  Sayn- Wittgenstein  (February 
10,  1859)  that  he  had  anticipated  the  permission 
of  Liszt,  and  had  sent  Die  Ideale  to  Leopold 
Damrosch,  who  would  have  the  parts  copied  and 
produce  the  work  in  the  course  of  the  month  at 
Breslau.     Carl  Tausig  produced  Die  Ideale  at 

138 


AS   COMPOSER 

Vienna  for  the  first  time,  February  24,  1861,  and 
in  a  letter  written  before  the  performance  to 
Liszt  he  said:  "I  shall  conduct  Die  Ideale  wholly 
according  to  your  wish,  yet  I  am  not  at  all  pleased 
with  Damrosch's  variante;  my  own  are  more 
plausible,  .  .  .  and  Cornelius  has  strengthened 
me  in  my  belief."  When  Die  Ideale  was  per- 
formed again  at  Vienna,  in  1880,  at  a  concert  of 
the  Society  of  Music  Friends,  led  by  the  com- 
poser, Eduard  Hanslick  based  his  criticism  on  the 
"witty  answer"  made  by  Berthold  Auerbach  to 
a  noble  dame  who  asked  him  what  he  thought  of 
Liszt's  compositions.  He  answered  by  putting 
another  question:  "What  would  you  think  if 
Ludwig  Devrient,  after  he  had  played  Shake- 
speare, Schiller,  and  Goethe  with  the  complete 
mastery  of  genius,  had  said  to  himself  in  his  fif- 
tieth year:  *Why  should  I  not  be  able  also  to 
write  what  I  play  so  admirably  ?  I'll  be  no  longer 
a  play  actor;  henceforth  I'll  be  a  tragic  poet'  ?" 

Die  Ideale  was  performed  for  the  first  time  in 
England  at  a  concert  at  the  Crystal  Palace,  April 
16,  1 88 1,  with  August  Manns  conductor. 

This  is  C.  A.  Barry's  answer  to  the  question, 
Why  was  Liszt  obliged  to  invent  the  term  sym- 
phonic poem? 

It  may  be  explained  that  finding  the  symphonic 
form,  as  by  rule  established,  inadequate  for  the 
purposes  of  poetic  music,  which  has  for  its  aim 
the  reproduction  and  re-enforcement  of  the  emo- 
tional essence  of  dramatic  scenes,  as  they  are  em- 
bodied in  poems  or  pictures,  he  felt  himself  con- 

139 


FRANZ  LISZT 

strained  to  adopt  certain  divergences  from  the 
prescribed  symphonic  form,  and,  for  the  new  art- 
form  thus  created,  was  consequently  obliged  to 
invent  a  more  appropriate  title  than  that  of  "sym- 
phony," the  formal  conditions  of  which  this 
would  not  fulfil.  The  inadequateness  of  the  old 
symphonic  form  for  translating  into  music  imag- 
inative conceptions  arising  from  poems  or  pic- 
tures, and  which  necessarily  must  be  presented 
in  a  fixed  order,  lies  in  its  "recapitulation"  sec- 
tion. This  Liszt  has  dropped;  and  the  neces- 
sity of  so  doing  is  apparent.  Hence  he  has  been 
charged  with  formlessness.  In  justification, 
therefore,  of  his  mode  of  procedure,  it  may  be 
pointed  out  to  those  of  his  critics  who  regard  ev- 
ery divergence  from  the  established  form  as  tend- 
ing to  formlessness,  that  the  form  which  he  has 
devised  for  his  symphonic  poems  in  the  main  dif- 
fers less  from  the  established  form  than  at  first 
sight  appears,  A  comparison  of  the  established 
form  of  the  so-called  classical  period  with  that  de- 
vised by  Liszt  will  make  this  apparent. 

The  former  may  be  described  as  consisting  of 
(i)  the  exposition  of  the  principal  subjects;  (2) 
their  development;  and  (3)  their  recapitulation. 
For  this  Liszt  has  substituted  (i)  exposition, 
(2)  development,  and  (3)  further  development; 
or,  as  Wagner  has  tersely  expressed  it,  "nothing 
else  but  that  which  is  demanded  by  the  subject 
and  its  expressible  development."  Thus,  though 
from  sheer  necessity,  rigid  formality  has  been  sac- 
rificed to  truthfulness,  unity  and  consistency  are 
140 


AS  COMPOSER 

as  fully  maintained  as  upon  the  old  system,  but 
by  a  different  method,  the  reasonableness  of 
which  cannot  be  disputed. 

A  FAUST  SYMPHONY 

Franz  Liszt  as  a  composer  was  bom  too  soon. 
Others  plucked  from  his  amiable  grasp  the  fruits 
of  his  originality.  When  Stendhal  declared  in 
1830  that  it  would  take  the  world  fifty  years  to 
comprehend  his  analytic  genius  he  was  a  prophet, 
indeed,  for  about  1880,  his  work  was  felt  by 
writers  of  that  period,  Paul  Bourget  and  the 
rest,  and  lived  again  in  their  pages.  But  poor, 
wonderful  Liszt,  Liszt  whose  piano  playing  set 
his  contemporaries  to  dancing  the  same  mad 
measure  we  recognise  in  these  days,  Liszt  the 
composer  had  to  knock  unanswered  at  many 
critical  doors  for  a  bare  recognition  of  his  ex- 
traordinary merits. 

One  man,  a  poor,  struggling  devil,  a  genius  of 
the  footlights,  wrote  him  encouraging  words,  not 
failing  to  ask  for  a  dollar  by  way  of  compensating 
postscript.  Richard  Wagner  discerned  the  great 
musician  behind  the  virtuoso  in  Liszt,  discerned 
it  so  well  that,  fearing  others  would  not,  he  ap- 
propriated in  a  purely  fraternal  manner  any  of 
Liszt's  harmonic,  melodic,  and  orchestral  ideas 
that  happened  to  suit  him.  So  heavily  indebted 
was  he  to  the  big-hearted  Hungarian  that  he 
married  his  daughter  Cosima,  thus  keeping  in 
the  family  a  "Sacred  Fount"  —  as  Henry  James 
141 


FRANZ  LISZT 

would  say  —  of  inspiration.  Wagner  not  only 
borrowed  Liszt's  purse,  but  also  his  themes. 

Nothing  interests  the  world  less  than  artistic 
plagiarism.  If  the  filching  be  but  cleverly  done, 
the  setting  of  the  stolen  gems  individual,  who 
cares  for  the  real  creator!  He  may  go  hang,  or 
else  visit  Bayreuth  and  enjoy  the  large  dramatic 
style  in  which  his  themes  are  presented.  Liszt 
preferred  the  latter  way;  besides,  Wagner  was 
his  son-in-law.  A  story  is  told  that  Wagner,  ap- 
preciating the  humour  of  his  Alberich-llke  explo- 
rations in  the  Liszt  scores,  sat  with  his  father-in- 
law  at  the  first  Ring  rehearsals  in  1876,  and  when 
Sieglinde's  dream  words  "Kehrte  der  Vater  nun 
heim"  began,  Wagner  nudged  Liszt,  exclaiming: 
"Now,  papa,  comes  a  theme  which  I  got  from 
you."  "  All  right,"  was  the  ironic  answer,  "  then 
one  will  at  least  hear  it." 

This  theme,  which  may  be  found  on  page  179 
of  Kleinmichael's  piano  score,  appears  at  the  be- 
ginning of  Liszt's  Faust  Symphony.  Wagner  had 
heard  it  at  a  festival  of  the  Allgemeiner  Deutscher 
Musik  Verein  in  1861.  He  liked  it  so  well  that 
he  cried  aloud:  "Music  furnishes  us  with  much 
that  is  beautiful,  but  this  music  is  divinely  beau- 
tiful!" 

Liszt  was  already  a  revolutionist  when  Wag- 
ner published  his  sonata  Op.  I.,  with  its  echoes 
of  Haydn  and  Mozart.  The  Revolutionary 
Symphony  still  survives  in  part  in  Liszt's  eighth 
symphonic  poem.  These  two  early  works  when 
compared  show  who  was  the  real  path  breaker. 
142 


AS  COMPOSER 

Compare  Orpheus  and  Tristan  and  Isolde;  the 
Faust  Symphony  and  Tristan;  Benediction  de 
Dieu  and  Isolde's  Liebestod;  Die  Ideale  and  Der 
Ring  —  Das  Rheingold  in  particular;  Invoca- 
tion and  Parsifal;  Battle  of  the  Huns  and  Kun- 
dry-Ritt;  The  Legend  of  Saint  Elizabeth  and 
Parsifal,  Excelsior  and  Parsifal. 

The  principal  theme  of  the  Faust  Symphony 
may  be  heard  in  Die  Walkure,  and  one  of  its  most 
characteristic  themes  appears,  note  for  note,  as 
the  "glance"  motive  in  Tristan.  The  Gretchen 
motive  in  Wagner's  Eine  Faust  Ouverture  is  de- 
rived from  Liszt,  and  the  opening  theme  of  the 
Parsifal  prelude  follows  closely  the  earlier  written 
Excelsior  of  Liszt. 

All  this  to  reassure  timid  souls  who  suspect 
Liszt  of  pilfering.  In  William  Mason's  Mem- 
ories of  a  Musical  Life  is  a  letter  sent  to  the  Amer- 
ican pianist,  bearing  date  of  December  14,  1854, 
In  which  the  writer,  Liszt,  says,  "  Quite  recently 
I  have  written  a  long  symphony  in  three  parts, 
called  Faust  [without  text  or  vocal  parts]  in  which 
the  horrible  measures  7-8,  7-4,  5-4  alternate  with 
common  time  and  3-4."  And  Liszt  had  already 
finished  his  Dante  Symphony.  Wagner  finished 
the  full  score  of  Rheingold  in  1854,  that  of  Die 
Walkure  in  1856;  the  last  act  of  Tristan  was 
ended  in  1859.  The  published  correspondence 
of  the  two  men  prove  that  Wagner  studied  the 
manuscripts  of  Liszt's  symphonic  poems  care- 
fully, and,  as  we  must  acknowledge,  with  wonder- 
ful assimilative  discrimination.     Liszt  was  the 

143 


FRANZ  LISZT 

loser,  the  world  of  dramatic  music  the  gainer 
thereby. 

Knowing  these  details  we  need  not  be  surprised 
at  the  Wagnerian  —  alas,  it  may  be  the  first  in  the 
field  who  wins!  —  colour,  themes,  traits  of  instru- 
mentation, individual  treatment  of  harmonic  pro- 
gressions that  abound  in  the  symphony  which  Mr. 
Paur  read  for  us  so  sympathetically.  For  exam- 
ple, one  astounding  transposition  —  let  us  give 
the  theft  a  polite  musical  name  —  occurs  in  the 
second,  the  Gretchen,  movement  where  Siegfried, 
disguised  as  Hagen,  appears  in  the  Liszt  or- 
chestra near  the  close. 

You  rub  your  eyes  as  you  hear  the  fateful 
chords,  enveloped  in  the  peculiar  green  and  sin- 
ister light  we  so  admire  in  Gotterdammerung. 
Even  the  atmosphere  is  abducted  by  Wagner. 
It  is  all  magnificent,  this  Nietzsche-like  seizure 
of  the  weaker  by  the  stronger  man. 

To  search  further  for  these  parallelisms  might 
prove  disquieting.  Suffice  to  say  that  the  begin- 
nings of  Wagner  from  Rienzi  to  Parsifal  may  be 
found  deposited  nugget- wise  in  this  Lisztian  Gol- 
conda.  The  true  history  of  Liszt  as  composer 
has  yet  to  be  written;  his  marvellous  versatility 
— he  overflowed  in  every  department  of  his  art 
— his  industry  are  memorable.  Richard  Wagner's 
dozen  music-dramas,  ten  volumes  of  prose  po- 
lemics and  occasional  orchestral  pieces  make  no 
better  showing  when  compared  to  the  labours  of 
his  brain-and-money-banker,  Franz  Liszt. 

Nor  was  Wagner  the  only  one  of  the  Forty 
144 


AS  COMPOSER 

Thieves  who  visited  this  Ali  Baba  cavern.  If 
Liszt  learned  much  from  Chopin,  Meyerbeer  — 
the  duo  from  the  fourth  act  of  Huguenots  is  in 
the  Gretchen  section  —  and  Berhoz,  the  younger 
men,  Tschaikowsky,  Rubinstein,  and  Richard 
Strauss,  have  simply  polished  white  and  bare  the 
ribs  of  the  grand  old  mastodon  of  Weimar. 

Faust  is  not  a  symphony.  (Query:  What  is 
the  symphonic  archetype  ?)  Rather  is  it  a  con- 
geries of  symphonic  moods,  structurally  united 
by  emotional  intimacy  and  occasional  thematic 
concourse.  The  movements  are  respectively  la- 
belled Faust,  Gretchen,  and  Mephistopheles,  the 
task,  an  impossibly  tremendous  one,  being  the 
embodiment  in  tones  of  the  general  characteris- 
tics of  Goethe's  poetic-philosophic  master-work. 

Therefore,  discarding  critical  crutches,  it  is 
best  to  hear  the  composition  primarily  as  abso- 
lute music.  We  know  that  it  is  in  C  minor;  that 
the  four  leading  motives  may  typify  intellectual 
doubt,  striving,  longing,  and  pride  —  the  last  in 
a  triumphant  E  major;  that  the  Gretchen  music 
—  too  lengthy  —  is  replete  with  maidenly  sweet- 
ness overshadowed  by  the  masculine  passion  of 
Faust  (and  also  his  theme) ;  that  in  the  Mephisto- 
pheles Liszt  appears  in  his  most  characteristic 
pose  —  Abba's  robe  tucked  up.  Pan's  hoofs  show- 
ing, and  the  air  charged  with  cynical  mockeries 
and  travesties  of  sacred  love  and  ideals  (themes 
are  topsy-turvied  k  la  Berlioz) ;  and  that  at  the 
close  this  devil's  dance  is  transformed  by  the  great 
comedian-composer  into  a  mystic  chant  with  mu- 

145 


FRANZ  LISZT 

sic  celestial  in  its  white-robed  purities;  Goethe's 
words,  "Alles  Vergangliche,"  ending  with  the 
consoling  "Das  Ewig  weiblich  zieht  uns  hinan." 

But  the  genius  of  it  all!  The  indescribable 
blending  of  the  sensuous,  the  mystic,  the  diabolic; 
the  master  grasp  on  the  psychologic  develop- 
ment —  and  the  imaginative  musical  handling  of 
themes  in  which  every  form,  fugal,  lyric,  sym- 
phonic, latter-day  poetic-symphonic,  is  juggled 
with  in  Liszt's  transcendental  manner.  The  Rich- 
ard Strauss  scores  are  structurally  more  complex, 
while,  as  painters,  Wagner,  Tschaikowski,  and 
Strauss  outpoint  Liszt  at  times.  But  he  is 
Heervater  Wotan  the  Wise,  or,  to  use  a  still  more 
expressive  German  term,  he  is  the  Urquell  of 
young  music,  of  musical  anarchy  —  an  anarchy 
that  traces  a  spiritual  air-route  above  certain 
social  tendencies  of  this  century. 

Nevertheless  it  must  be  confessed  that  there 
are  some  dreary  moments  in  the  Faust. 


SYMPHONY  AFTER  DANTE'S  DIVINA 
.COMMEDIA 

The  first  sketches  of  this  symphony  were  made 
during  Liszt's  stay  at  the  country  house  of  the 
Princess  Carolyne  Sayn-Wittgenstein  at  Wo- 
ronice,  October,  1847  —  February,  1848.  The 
symphony  was  finished  in  1855,  and  the  score 
was  published  in  1858.  The  first  performance 
was  at  Dresden  on  November  7, 1857,  under  the 
146 


AS  COMPOSER 

direction  of  Wilhelm  Fischer.  Tlie  first  part, 
Inferno,  was  produced  in  Boston  at  a  Philhar- 
monic Concert,  Mr.  Listemann  conductor,  No- 
vember 19,  1880.  The  whole  symphony  was 
performed  at  Boston  at  a  Symphony  Concert, 
Mr.  Gericke  conductor,  February  27,  1886. 

The  work  is  scored  for  3  flutes  (one  inter- 
changeable with  piccolo),  2  oboes,  cor  anglais,  2 
clarinets,  bass  clarinet,  2  bassoons,  4  horns,  2 
trumpets,  3  trombones,  bass  tuba,  2  sets  of  kettle- 
drums, cymbals,  bass  drum,  gong,  2  harps,  har- 
monium, strings,  and  chorus  of  female  voices. 
The  score  is  dedicated  to  Wagner:  "As  Virgil 
led  Dante,  so  hast  thou  led  me  through  the  mys- 
terious regions  of  tone-worlds  drunk  with  life. 
From  the  depths  of  my  heart  I  cry  to  thee :  '  Tu 
se  lo  mio  maestro,  e  '1  mio  autore!'  and  dedicate 
in  unalterable  love  this  work.     Weimar,  Easter, 

'59-" 
/.     Inferno:  Lento,  4-4. 

Per  me  si  va  nella  cittk  dolente: 
Per  me  si  va  nell'  eterno  dolore: 
Per  me  si  va  tra  la  perduta  gente! 

Through  me  the  way  is  to  the  city  dolent; 
Through  me  the  way  is  to  eternal  dole; 
-  Through  me  the  way  among  the  people  lost. 

— Longfellow. 

These  words,  read  by  Dante  as  he  looked  at 
the  gate  of  hell,  are  thundered  out  by  trombones, 
tuba,  double  basses,  etc.;  and  immediately  after 
trumpets  and  horn  make  the  dreadful  proclama- 

147 


FRANZ  LISZT 

tion  (C-sharp  minor):  "Lasciate  ogni  speranza, 
voi  ch'  entrate"  ("All  hope  abandon,  ye  who 
enter  in.")  Liszt  has  written  the  Italian  hnes 
under  the  theme  in  the  score.  The  two  "  Hell  mo- 
tives" follow,  the  first  a  descending  chromatic 
passage  in  the  lower  strings  against  roll  of  drums, 
the  second  given  to  bassoons  and  violas.  There 
is  illustration  of  Dante's  lines  that  describe  the 
"sighs,  complaints,  and  ululations  loud": — 

Languages  diverse,  horrible  dialects, 
Accents  of  anger,  words  of  agony, 
And  voices  high  and  hoarse,  with  sound  of  hands, 
Made  up  a  tumult  that  goes  whirling  on 
Forever  in  that  air  forever  black, 
Even  as  the  sand  doth,  when  the  whirlwind  breathes. 

— Longfellow. 

The  Allegro  frenetico,  2-2,  in  the  development 
paints  the  madness  of  despair,  the  rage  of  the 
damned.  Again  there  is  the  cry,  "  All  hope  aban- 
don" (trumpets,  horns,  trombones,  tuba).  There 
is  a  lull  in  the  orchestral  storm.  Quasi  Andante, 
5-4.  Harps,  flutes,  violins,  a  recitative  of  bass 
clarinet  and  two  clarinets  lead  to  the  episode  of 
Francesca  da  Rimini  and  Paolo.  The  cor  ang- 
lais sings  the  lamentation: — 

There  is  no  greater  sorrow 

Than  to  be  mindful  of  the  happy  time 

In  misery. 

Before  the  'cello  takes  up  the  melody  sung  by  the 

clarinet,  the   Lasciate   theme   is  heard    (muted 

148 


AS  COMPOSER 

horn,  solo,)  and  then  in  three  tempo,  Andante 
amoroso,  7-4,  comes  the  love  duet,  which  ends 
with  the  Lasciate  motive.  A  harp  cadenza 
brings  the  return  to  the  first  allegro  tempo,  in 
which  the  Lasciate  theme  in  combination  with 
the  two  Hell  motives  is  developed  with  grotesque 
and  infernal  orchestration.  There  is  this  remark 
in  the  score:  "This  whole  passage  should  be  un- 
derstood as  sardonic,  blasphemous  laughter  and 
most  sharply  defined  as  such."  After  the  repe- 
tition of  nearly  the  whole  of  the  opening  section 
of  the  allegro  the  Lasciate  theme  is  heard  jff. 
II.  Purgatorio  and  Magnificat.  The  section 
movement  begins  Andante  con  moto,  D  major, 
4-4.  According  to  the  composer  there  is  the 
suggestion  of  a  vessel  that  sails  slowly  over  an 
unruflOied  sea.  The  stars  begin  to  glitter,  there  is 
a  cloudless  sky,  there  is  a  mystic  stillness.  Over 
a  rolling  figuration  is  a  melody  first  for  horn,  then 
oboe,  the  Meditation  motive.  This  period  is 
repeated  a  half-tone  higher.  The  Prayer  theme 
is  sung  by  'cello,  then  by  first  violin.  There 
is  illustration  of  Dante's  tenth  canto,  and  es- 
pecially of  the  passage  where  the  sinners  call  to 
remembrance  the  good  that  they  did  not  accom- 
plish. This  remorseful  and  pentinent  looking- 
back  and  the  hope  in  the  future  inspired  Liszt, 
according  to  his  commentator,  Richard  Pohl,  to 
a  fugue  based  on  a  most  complicated  theme. 
After  this  fugue  the  gentle  Prayer  and  Re- 
pentance melodies  are  heard.  Harp  chords  es- 
tablished the  rhythm  of  the  Magnificat  (three 
149 


FRANZ  LISZT 

flutes  ascending  in  chords  of  E-flat).  This 
motive  goes  through  sundry  modulations.  And 
now  an  unseen  chorus  of  women,  accompanied 
by  harmonium,  sings,  "Magnificat  anima  mea 
Dominum  et  exultavit  spiritus  meus,  in  Deo  salu- 
tari  meo"  (My  soul  doth  magnify  the  Lord,  and 
my  spirit  hath  rejoiced  in  God  my  Saviour).  A 
solo  voice,  that  of  the  Mater  Gloriosa,  repeats  the 
song.  A  short  choral  passage  leads  to  "  Hosanna 
Halleluja."  The  final  harmonies  are  supposed 
to  illustrate  the  passage  in  the  twenty-first  canto 
of  the  Paradiso: — 

I  saw  rear'd  up, 
In  colour  like  to  sun -illumined  gold, 
A  ladder,  which  my  ken  pursued  in  vain. 
So  lofty  was  the  summit;   down  whose  steps 
I  saw  the  splendours  in  such  multitude 
Descending,  every  light  in  heaven,  methought, 
Was  shed  thence. 

—H.  F.  Gary. 

The  "Hosanna"  is  again  heard,  and  the  sym- 
phony ends  in  soft  harmonies  (B  major)  with  the 
first  Magnificat  theme, 

Liszt  wrote  to  Wagner,  June  2,  1855:  "Then 
you  are  reading  Dante?  He  is  excellent  com- 
pany for  you.  I,  on  my  part,  shall  furnish  a  kind 
of  commentary  to  his  work.  For  a  long  time  I 
had  in  my  head  a  Dante  symphony,  and  in  the 
course  of  this  year  it  is  to  be  finished.  There 
are  to  be  three  movements,  'Hell,'  'Purgatory,' 
and  'Paradise,'  the  two  first  purely  instrumental, 
the  last  with  chorus." 

150 


AS  COMPOSER 

Wagner  wrote  in  reply  a  long  letter  from  Lon- 
don: "That  'Heir  and  'Purgatory'  will  succeed 
I  do  not  call  into  question  for  a  moment,  but  as 
to  *  Paradise '  I  have  some  doubts,  which  you  con- 
firm by  saying  that  your  plan  includes  choruses. 
In  the  Ninth  Symphony  the  last  choral  movement 
is  decidedly  the  weakest  part,  although  it  is  his- 
torically important,  because  it  discloses  to  us  in  a 
very  naive  manner  the  difficulties  of  a  real  musi- 
cian who  does  not  know  how  (after  hell  and  pur- 
gatory) he  is  to  describe  paradise.  About  this 
paradise,  dearest  Franz,  there  is  in  reality  a  con- 
siderable difficulty,  and  he  who  confirms  this 
opinion  is,  curiously  enough,  Dante  himself,  the 
singer  of  Paradise,  which  in  his  'Divine  Comedy' 
also  is  decidedly  the  weakest  part."  And  then 
Wagner  wrote  at  length  concerning  Dante,  Chris- 
tianity, Buddhism,  and  other  matters.  "But, 
perhaps,  you  will  succeed  better,  and  as  you  are 
going  to  paint  a  tone  picture,  I  might  almost  pre- 
dict your  success,  for  music  is  essentially  the  ar- 
tistic, original  image  of  the  world.  For  the  in- 
itiated no  error  is  here  possible.  Only  about  the 
'Paradise,'  and  especially  about  the  choruses,  I 
feel  some  friendly  anxiety." 

The  next  performance  of  the  symphony  in  Bos- 
ton was  May  i,  1903,  again  under  the  direction  of 
Mr.  Gericke.  Mr.  Philip  Hale  furnished  the 
notes  for  the  analytical  programme.  Richard 
Pohl,  whose  critical  annotations  were  prompted 
and  approved  by  Liszt,  points  out  that  a  com- 
poser worthy  of  a  theme  like  Faust  must  be  some- 

151 


FRANZ  LISZT 

thing  more  than  a  tone-composer:  his  concern 
ought  to  be  with  something  that  neither  the  word 
with  its  concrete  definiteness  can  express,  nor 
form  and  colour  can  actually  realise,  and  this 
something  is  the  world  of  the  profoundest  and 
most  intimate  feelings  that  unveil  themselves  to 
man's  mind  only  in  tones.  None  but  the  tone 
poet  can  render  the  fundamental  moods.  But  in 
order  to  seize  them  in  their  totality,  he  must  ab- 
stract from  the  material  moments  of  Dante's 
epic,  and  can  at  most  allude  to  few  of  them. 
On  the  other  hand,  he  must  also  abstract  from 
the  dramatic  and  philsophical  elements.  These 
were  Liszt's  views  on  the  treatment  of  the  subject. 
The  Dante  idea  had  obsessed  Liszt  for  years. 
In  1847  he  had  planned  musical  illustrations  of 
certain  scenes  from  the  epic  with  the  aid  of  the 
newly-invented  Diorama.  This  plan  was  never 
carried  out.  The  Fantasia  quasi-sonata  for 
pianoforte  (Annees  de  Pelerinage),  suggested  by  a 
poem  of  Victor  Hugo,  "Apres  une  lecture  de 
Dante,"  is  presumably  a  sketch;  it  is  full  of  fu- 
liginous grandeur  and  whirling  rhythms.  Com- 
posed of  imagination  and  impulse,  his  mind  satu- 
rated with  contemporary  literature,  Liszt's  ge- 
nius, as  Dannreuther  declares,  was  one  that  could 
hardly  express  itself  save  through  some  other 
imaginative  medium.  He  devoted  his  extraor- 
dinary mastery  of  instrumental  technique  to  the 
purposes  of  illustrative  expression;  and,  adds  the 
authority  cited,  he  was  now  and  then  inclined  to 
do  so  in  a  manner  that  tends  to  reduce  his  music 

152 


AS  COMPOSER 

to  the  level  of  decorative  scene  painting  or  affresco 
work.  But  the  unenthusiastic  critic  admits  that 
there  are  episodes  of  sublimity  and  great  beauty 
in  the  Dante  Symphony.  The  influence  of  Ber- 
lioz is  not  marked  in  this  work. 


WEINGARTNER'S  AND  RUBINSTEIN'S 
CRITICISMS 

In  his  The  Symphony  Since  Beethoven,  Felix 
Weingartner,  renowned  as  a  conductor  and  com- 
poser, has  said  some  pertinent  things  of  the  Liszt 
symphonic  works.  It  must  not  be  forgotten  that 
he  was  a  pupil  of  the  Hungarian  composer.  He 
has  been  discussing  Beethoven's  first  Leonora 
overture  and  continues  thus: 

"  The  same  defects  that  mark  the  Ideale  mark 
Liszt's  Bergsymphonie,  and,  in  spite  of  some 
beauties,  his  Tasso.  Some  other  of  his  orchestral 
works,  as  Hamlet^  Prometheus,  Heroide  Funebre, 
are  inferior  through  weakness  of  invention.  An 
improvisatore  style,  often  passing  into  dismem- 
berment, is  peculiar  to  most  of  Liszt's  composi- 
tions. I  might  say  that  while  Brahms  is  charac- 
terised by  a  musing  reflective  element,  in  Liszt  a 
rhapsodical  element  has  the  upper  hand,  and  can 
be  felt  as  a  disturbing  element  in  his  weaker 
works.  Masterpieces,  besides  those  already  men- 
tioned, are  the  Hungaria,  Festklange  the  Hun- 
nenschlacht,  a  fanciful  piece  of  elementary  weird 
power;    Les  Prdudes,  and,  above  all,  the  two 

153 


FRANZ  LISZT 

great  symphonies  to  Faust  and  Dante's  Divine 
Comedy.  The  Faust  Symphony  intends  not  at 
all  to  embody  musically  Goethe's  poem,  but  gives, 
as  its  title  indicates,  three  character  figures,  Faust, 
Gretchen  and  Mephistopheles.  The  art  and  fancy 
with  which  Liszt  here  makes  and  develops 
psychologic,  dramatic  variation  of  a  theme  are 
shown  in  the  third  movement.  Mephistopheles, 
the  'spirit  that  denies,'  'for  all  that  does  arise 
deserves  to  perish,'  is  the  principle  of  the  piece. 
"  Hence,  Liszt  could  not  give  it  a  theme  of  its 
own,  but  built  up  the  whole  movement  out  of 
caricatures  of  previous  themes  referring  specially 
to  Faust;  and  it  is  only  stupid  lack  of  comprehen- 
sion that  brought  against  Liszt,  in  a  still  higher 
degree  than  against  Berlioz,  the  reproach  of  pov- 
erty of  invention.  I  ask  if  our  old  masters  made 
great  movements  by  the  manifold  variation  of 
themes  of  a  few  bars,  ought  the  like  to  be  forbid- 
den to  a  composer  when  a  recognisably  poetic 
thought  is  the  moving  spring  ?  Does  not  inven- 
tion belong  to  such  characteristic  variation  ?  And 
just  this  movement  reveals  to  us  most  clearly 
Liszt's  profound  knowledge  of  the  real  nature  of 
music.  When  the  hellish  Devil's  brood  has  grown 
to  the  most  appalling  power,  then,  hovering  in  the 
clouds  of  glory,  the  main  theme  of  the  Gretchen 
movement  appears  in  its  original,  untouched 
beauty.  Against  it  the  might  of  the  devil  is  shat- 
tered, and  sinks  back  into  nothing.  The  poet 
might  let  Gretchen  sink,  nay,  become  a  criminal; 
the  musician,  in  obedience  to  the  ideal,  noble 

154 


AS  COMPOSER 

character  of  his  art,  preserves  for  her  a  form  of 
light.  Powerful  trombone  calls  resound  through 
the  dying  hell-music,  a  male  chorus  begins  softly 
Goethe's  sublime  words  of  the  chorus  mysticus, 
'All  that  is  transient  is  emblem  alone,'  and  in 
the  clearly  recognised  notes  of  the  Gretchen  theme 
a  tenor  voice  continues,  'The  ever- womanly 
draweth  us  up ! '  This  tenor  voice  may  be  iden- 
tified with  Goethe's  Doctor  Marianus;  we  may 
imagine  Gretchen  glorified  into  the  Mater  Glori- 
osa,  and  recall  Faust's  words  when  he  beholds 
Gretchen's  image  in  the  vanishing  clouds: 

*  Like  some  fair  soul,  the  lovely  form  ascends, 
And,  not  dissolving,  rises  to  the  skies 
And  draws  away  the  best  within  me  with  it.' 

"So,  in  great  compositions,  golden  threads  spun 
from  sunshine  move  between  the  music  and  the 
inspiring  poetry,  hght  and  swaying,  adorning 
both  arts,  fettering  neither. 

"  Perhaps  with  still  more  unity  and  power  than 
the  Faust  Symphony  is  the  tone  poem  to  Dante's 
Divine  Comedy,  with  its  thrilling  representations 
of  the  torments  of  hell  and  the '  purgatorio,' 
gradually  rising  in  higher  and  higher  spheres  of 
feeling.  In  these  works  Liszt  gave  us  the  best 
he  could  give.  They  mark  the  summit  of  his 
creative  power,  and  the  ripest  fruit  of  that  style 
of  programme  music  that  is  artistically  justified, 
since  Berlioz. 

"  Outside  of  these  two  symphonies  Liszt's  or- 
chestral works  consist  of  only  one  movement  and, 

155 


FRANZ  LISZT 

as  you  know,  are  entitled  Symphonic  Poems.  The 
title  is  extremely  happy,  and  seems  to  lay  down 
the  law,  perhaps  the  only  law  that  a  composition 
must  follow  if  it  has  any  raison  d'etre.  Let  it  be 
a  'poem,'  that  is,  let  it  grow  out  of  a  poetic  idea, 
an  inspiration  of  the  soul,  which  remains  either 
unspoken  or  communicated  to  the  public  by  the 
title  and  programme;  but  let  it  also  be  'sym- 
phonic,' which  here  is  synonymous  with  'musi- 
cal.' Let  it  have  a  form,  either  one  derived  from 
the  classic  masters,  or  a  new  one  that  grows  out  of 
the  contents  and  is  adapted  to  them.  Formless- 
ness in  art  is  always  censurable  and  in  music  can 
never  win  pardon  by  a  programme  or  by  'what 
the  composer  was  thinking.'  Liszt's  symphonic 
works  show  a  great  first  step  on  a  new  path.  Who- 
ever wishes  to  follow  it  must,  before  all  things, 
be  careful  not  to  imitate  Liszt's  weakness,  a  fre- 
quently remarkable  disjointed  conception,  nor  to 
make  it  a  law,  but  to  write  compositions  which 
are  more  than  musical  illustrations  to  pro- 
grammes." 

Rubinstein,  though  he  had  been  intimate  with 
Liszt  at  Weimar,  and  profiting  by  his  advice, 
made  no  concealment  of  his  aversion  to  the  com- 
positions. In  his  "Conversation  on  Music"  he 
said:  "Liszt's  career  as  a  composer  from  1853 
is,  according  to  my  idea,  a  very  disappointing 
one.  In  every  one  of  his  compositions  'one 
marks  design  and  is  displeased.'  We  find  pro- 
gramme music  carried  to  the  extreme,  also  con- 
tinual posing  —  in  his  church  music  before  God, 

156 


AS  COMPOSER 

in  his  orchestral  music  works  before  the  public, 
in  his  transcriptions  of  songs  before  the  com- 
posers, in  his  Hungarian  rhapsodies  before  the 
gipsies  —  in  short,  always  and  everywhere  pos- 
ing. 

"  'Dans  les  arts  il  faut  faire  grand'  was  his 
usual  dictum,  therefore  the  affectation  in  his 
work.  His  fashion  for  creating  something  new 
—  h.  tout  prix  —  caused  him  to  form  entire  com- 
positions out  of  a  simple  theme.  ...  So:  the 
sonata  form  —  to  set  this  aside  means  to  extempo- 
rise a  fantasia  that  is  however  not  a  symphony, 
not  a  sonata,  not  a  concerto.  Architecture  is 
nearest  allied  to  music  in  its  fundamental  prin- 
ciples —  can  a  formless  house  or  church  or  any 
other  building  be  imagined?  Or  a  structure, 
where  the  facade  is  a  church,  another  part  of  the 
structure  a  railway  station,  another  part  a  floral 
pavilion,  and  still  another  part  a  manufactory, 
and  so  on  ?  Hence  lack  of  form  in  music  is  im- 
provisation, yes,  borders  almost  on  digression. 
Symphonic  poems  (so  he  calls  his  orchestral 
works)  are  supposed  to  be  another  new  form  of 
art  —  whether  a  necessity  and  vital  enough  to 
hve,  time,  as  in  the  case  of  Wagner's  Music- 
Drama,  must  teach  us.  His  orchestral  instru- 
mentation exhibits  the  same  mastery  as  that  of 
Berlioz  and  Wagner,  even  bears  their  stamp; 
with  that,  however,  it  is  to  be  remembered  that 
his  pianoforte  is  the  Orchestra-Pianoforte  and  his 
orchestra  the  Pianoforte-Orchestra,  for  the  or- 
chestral composition  sounds  like  an  instrumented 

157 


FRANZ  LISZT 

pianoforte  composition.  All  in  all  I  see  in 
Berlioz,  Wagner,  and  Liszt,  the  Virtuoso- Com- 
poser, and  I  would  be  glad  to  believe  that  their 
'breaking  all  bounds'  may  be  an  advantage  to 
the  coming  genius.  In  the  sense,  however,  of 
specifically  musical  creation  I  can  recognise  nei- 
ther one  of  them  as  a  composer  —  and,  in  addi- 
tion to  this,  I  have  noticed  so  far  that  all  three 
of  them  are  wanting  in  the  chief  charm  of  crea- 
tion —  the  naive  —  that  stamp  of  geniality  and, 
at  the  same  time,  that  proof  that  genius  after  all 
is  a  child  of  humanity.  Their  influence  on  the 
composers  of  the  day  is  great,  but  as  I  believe 
unhealthy." 

THE  RHAPSODIES 

Liszt  wrote  fifteen  compositions  for  the  piano- 
forte, to  which  he  gave  the  name  of  Rhapsodies 
Hongroises;  they  are  based  on  national  Magyar 
melodies.  Of  these  he,  assisted  by  Franz  Dop- 
pler,  scored  six  for  orchestra.  There  is  consid- 
erable confusion  between  the  pianoforte  set  and 
the  orchestral  transcriptions,  in  the  matter  of 
numbering.  Some  of  the  orchestral  transcrip- 
tions, too,  are  transposed  to  different  keys  from 
the  originals.     Here  are  the  lists  of  both  sets. 

Original  Set,  for  Pianoforte, 

I.    In  E-flat  major,  dedicated  to  E.  Zerdahely. 
II.     In  C-sharp  minor  and  F-sharp  major,  dedicated  to 
Count  Ladislas  Teleki. 

158 


AS  COMPOSER 

ni.    In  B-flat  major,  dedicated  to  Count  Leo  Festetics. 

IV.  In  E-flat  major,  dedicated  to  Count  Casimir  Eszter- 

hdzy. 
V,    Heroide  6Ugiaque,  in  E  minor,  dedicated  to  Coun- 
tess Sidonie  Reviczky. 
VI.    In  D-flat  major,  dedicated  to  Count  Antoine  d'Ap- 

ponyi. 
VII.    In  D  minor,  dedicated  to  Baron  Fery  Orczy. 
VIII.     In  F-sharp  minor,  dedicated  to  M.  A.  d'Augusz. 
IX.    Le  Carnaval  de  Pesth,  in  E-flat  major,  dedicated  to 

H.  W.  Ernst. 
X.    Preludio,  in  E  major,  dedicated  to  Egressy  B6ny. 
XI,     In  A  minor,  dedicated  to  Baron  Fery  Orczy. 
XII.    In  C-sharp  minor,  dedicated  to  Joseph  Joachim. 

XIII.  In  A  minor,  dedicated  to  Count  Leo  Festetics. 

XIV.  In  F  minor,  dedicated  to  Hans  von  Biilow. 
XV.    Rdkdczy  Marsch,  in  A  minor. 

Orchestral  Set. 

I.     In  F  minor      .     .     .     (No.  14  of  the  original  set). 
11.     Transposed     to     D 

minor      ....     (No.  12  "    "         "         " ). 
III.    Transposed     to     D 

major      ....     (No.    6  "    "         "         " ). 
rV.     Transposed     to     D 

minor  and  G  major    (No.    2  "    "         "         "  ). 

V.  In  E  minor      .     .     .     (No.    5  "    "         "         " ). 
VI.    P  e  s  t  h  e  r  Carneval, 

transposed    to    D 

major      ....     (No.    9  "    "        "        " ). 

The  dedications  remain  the  same  as  in  the 
original  set. 


159 


FRANZ  LISZT 


AUGUST  SPANUTH'S  ANALYSIS 

August  Spanuth,  now  the  editor  of  the  Signale 
in  Berlin,  wrote  inter  alia  of  the  Rhapsodies  in  his 
edition  prepared  for  the  Ditsons: 

"After  Liszt's  memorable  visit  to  his  native 
country  in  1840  he  freely  submitted  to  the  influ- 
ence of  the  gipsy  music.  The  catholicity  of  his 
musical  taste,  due  to  his  very  sensitive  and  recep- 
tive nature  as  well  as  his  cosmopolitan  life,  would 
have  enabled  him  to  usurp  the  musical  character- 
istics of  any  nation,  no  matter  how  uncouth,  and 
work  wonders  with  them.  His  versatility  and 
resourcefulness  in  regard  to  form  seemed  to  be 
inexhaustible,  and  he  would  certainly  have  been 
able  to  write  some  interesting  fantasias  on  Hun- 
garian themes  had  his  affection  for  that  country 
been  only  acquired  instead  of  inborn.  For- 
tunately his  heart  was  in  the  task,  and  Liszt's 
Hungarian  Rhapsodies  not  only  rank  among  his 
most  powerful  and  convincing  works,  but  must 
also  be  counted  as  superior  specimens  of  national 
music  in  general.  It  does  not  involve  an  injus- 
tice toward  Haydn,  Beethoven,  and  Schubert, 
who  occasionally  affected  Hungarian  peculiari- 
ties in  their  compositions,  to  state  that  it  was 
Liszt  who  with  his  rhapsodies  and  kindred  com- 
positions started  a  new  era  of  Hungarian  music. 
'  Tunes '  which  heretofore  served  to  amuse  a  mot- 
ley crowd  at  the  czardas  on  the  'Puszta'  have 
through  Liszt  been  successfully  introduced  into 
160 


AS  COMPOSER 

legitimate  music.  And  most  wonderful  of  all, 
he  has  not  hesitated  to  preserve  all  the  drastic  and 
coarse  effects  of  the  gipsy  band  without  ever  lean- 
ing toward  vulgarity.  Who,  before  Franz  Liszt, 
would  have  dreamed  of  employing  cymbal-ef- 
fects in  legitimate  piano  playing  ?  Liszt,  such  is 
the  power  of  artistic  transfiguration,  imitates  the 
cymbal  to  perfection  and  yet  does  not  mar  the  il- 
lusion of  refinement;  while,  on  the  other  hand, 
the  cymbal  as  a  solo  instrument  must  still  impress 
us  as  primitive  and  rude.  Liszt  did  not  conceive 
the  Hungarian  music  with  his  outer  ear  alone,  as 
most  of  his  numerous  imitators  did.  They  caught 
but  the  outline,  some  rhythmical  features  and 
some  stereotyped  ornaments;  but  Liszt  was  able 
to  penetrate  to  the  very  source  of  it,  he  carried 
the  key  to  its  secret  in  his  Hungarian  tempera- 
ment. 

"  To  speak  of  Hungarian  folk-songs  is  hardly 
permissible  since  a  song  includes  the  words  as 
well  as  the  music.  Hungary  is  a  polyglot  coun- 
try, and  a  song  belonging  through  its  words,  as 
well  as  its  notes,  to  the  vast  majority  of  the  in- 
habitants is  therefore  an  impossibility.  The  Mag- 
yars, of  course,  claim  to  be  the  only  genuine  Hun- 
garians, and  since  they  settled  there  almost  a 
thousand  years  ago  and  are  still  indisputably  the 
dominating  race  of  the  country,  their  claim  may 
remain  uncontested.  Even  the  fact  that  the  Mag- 
yars are  but  half  of  the  total  of  a  strange  mix- 
ture, made  up  of  heterogeneous  elements,  would 
not  necessarily  render  invalid  any  pretension  that 
i6i 


FRANZ  LISZT 

their  songs  are  the  genuine  Hungarian  songs.  But 
the  proud  Magyar  will  admit  that  Hungarian 
music  is  first  and  foremost  gipsy  music,  Hunga- 
rian gipsy  music.  How  much  the  Magyars  have 
originally  contributed  to  this  music  does  not  ap- 
pear to  be  clear.  Perhaps  more  research  may 
lead  to  other  results,  but  the  now  generally  ac- 
cepted conjecture  gives  the  rhythmic  features  to 
the  Magyars  and  the  characteristic  ornaments  to 
the  gipsies.  It  will  probably  not  be  denied  that 
this  presumption  looks  more  like  a  compromise 
than  the  fruit  of  thorough  scientific  investigation. 
Furthermore,  rhythnS  and  ornaments  are  in  Hun- 
garian music  so  closely  knit  that  it  seems  incom- 
prehensible that  they  should  have  originated  as 
characteristic  features  of  two  races  so  widely  di- 
vergent. If  this  is  so,  however,  we  may  hope 
that  out  of  our  own  negro  melodies  and  the  songs 
of  other  elements  of  our  population  real  Ameri- 
can folk-music  will  yet  after  centuries  develop, 
though  it  is  to  be  feared  that  neither  the  negroes 
nor  other  inhabitants  of  the  United  States  will 
be  in  a  position  to  preserve  sufficient  naivete, 
indispensable  for  the  production  of  real  folk- 
music.  Otherwise  the  analogon  is  promising, 
the  despised  gipsy  taking  socially  about  the  same 
position  in  Hungary  as  our  own  negro  here. 

"  The  Hungarian  music  as  known  to-day  will 
impress  everybody  as  a  unit;  so  much  so  that  its 
restrictions  are  obvious,  and  likely  to  produce  a 
monotonous  effect  if  too  much  of  it  is  offered. 
Above  all,  this  music  is  purely  instrumental  and 
162 


AS  COMPOSER 

therefore  different  from  all  other  folk-music.  It 
is  based,  though  not  exclusively,  on  a  peculiar 
scale,  the  harmonic  minor  scale  with  an  aug- 
mented fourth.  Some  commentators  read  this 
scale  differently  by  starting  at  the  dominant. 
Thus  it  appears  as  a  major  scale  with  a  dimin- 
ished second  and  a  minor  sixth,  a  sort  of  major- 
minor  mode.  The  latter  scale  can  be  found  on 
the  last  page  of  Liszt's  Fifteenth  Rhapsody,  where 
it  runs  from  a  to  a,  thus:  a,  &-flat,  c-sharp,  d,  e,f, 
^-sharp  and  a.  But  for  every  scale  of  this  con- 
struction a  dozen  of  the  former  may  be  gathered 
in  the  Rhapsodies.  While  the  notes  are  identi- 
cal in  both,  the  effect  upon  the  ear  is  different, 
according  to  the  starting  note,  just  as  the  de- 
scending melodic  minor  scale  is  de  facto  the  same 
as  the  relative  major  scale,  but  not  in  its  effect. 
The  austerity  and  acidity  of  the  altered  harmonic 
minor  scale  is  the  chief  characteristic  of  the  me- 
lodious and  harmonic  elements  of  Hungarian 
music.  Imbued  with  a  plaintive  and  melan- 
choly flavour  this  mode  will  always  be  recognised 
as  the  gipsy  kind.  To  revel  in  sombre  melodies 
seems  to  be  one  half  of  the  purpose  of  Hungarian 
music,  and  in  logical  opposition  a  frolicsome  gai- 
ety the  other  half.  In  the  regular  czardas,  a  rus- 
tic dance  at  the  wayside  inn  on  the  Puszta,  the 
melancholy  lassan  alternates  in  well-proportioned 
intervals  with  the  extravagant  and  boisterous 
friska.  The  rhythm  may  be  said  to  be  a  sort  of 
spite-rhythm,  very  decisive  in  most  cases,  but 
most  of  the  time  in  syncopation.  This  rhythm 
163 


FRANZ  LISZT 

proves  conclusively  that  the  origin  of  Hunga- 
rian music  is  instrumental,  for  even  in  cantabile 
periods,  where  the  melody  follows  a  more  dreamy 
vein,  the  syncopations  are  seldom  missing  in  the 
accompaniment.  At  every  point  one  is  reminded 
that  the  dance  was  father  to  this  music,  a  dance 
of  unconventional  movements  where  the  dancer 
seems  to  avoid  the  step  which  one  expected  him 
to  take,  and  instead  substitutes  a  queer  but  grace- 
ful jerk.  Where  actual  jerks  in  the  melody  would 
be  inopportune,  the  ornaments  are  at  hand  and 
help  to  prevent  every  semblance  of  convention- 
ality. 

"Liszt,  of  course,  has  widened  the  scope  of 
these  ornamental  features  considerably.  His  fer- 
tility in  applying  such  ornaments  to  each  and 
every  musical  thought  he  is  spinning  is  stupen- 
dous. In  all  his  nineteen  rhapsodies  —  the  Twen- 
tieth Rhapsody  is  still  in  manuscript  —  the  style, 
form,  constructive  idea,  and  application  of  these 
ornaments  are  different,  but  every  one  is  char- 
acteristic not  only  of  Hungarian  music  in  general, 
but  of  the  rhapsody  in  particular. 

"Both  the  syncopated  rhythm  and  the  rich 
ornamentation  which  naturally  necessitate  a  fre- 
quent tempo  rubato  help  to  avoid  the  monotony 
which  might  result  from  the  fact  that  Hungarian 
music  moves  in  even  rhythm  only.  Four-quarter 
and  two-quarter  time  prevail  throughout,  while 
three-quarter  and  six-eight  do  not  seem  to  fit  in 
the  rhythmic  design  of  Hungarian  music.  At- 
tempts have  been  made   to  introduce   uneven 

164 


AS  COMPOSER 

rhythm,  but  they  were  not  successful.  Where 
three-quarter  and  similar  rhythm  appears,  the 
Hungarian  spirit  evaporates.  Much  more  va- 
riety is  available  regarding  the  tempo,  the  orig- 
inal lassan  and  friska  not  being  indispensable, 
A  moderate  and  graceful  allegretto  is  frequently 
used  by  Liszt,  and  he  also  graduates  the  speed  of 
the  brilliant  finales  as  well  as  the  languor  of  the 
introductions  of  his  Rhapsodies." 


AS  SONG  WRITER 

"It  is  not  known  exactly  when  Liszt  began  to 
compose  songs,"  writes  Henry  T.  Finck  in  his 
volume  on  Songs  and  Song  Writers.  "The  best 
of  them  belong  to  the  Weimar  period,  when  he 
was  in  the  full  maturity  of  his  creative  power. 
There  are  stories  of  songs  inspired  by  love  while 
he  lived  in  Paris;  and  he  certainly  did  write  six 
settings  of  French  songs,  chiefly  by  Victor  Hugo. 
These  he  prepared  for  the  press  in  1842.  While 
less  original  in  melody  and  modulation  than  the 
best  of  his  German  songs,  they  have  a  distinct 
French  esprit  and  elegance  which  attest  his  power 
of  assimilation  and  his  cosmopolitanism.  These 
French  songs,  fortunately  for  his  German  ad- 
mirers, were  translated  by  Cornelius.  Italian 
leanings  are  betrayed  by  his  choice  of  poems  by 
Petrarca  and  Bocella;  but,  as  already  intimated 
his  favourite  poets  are  Germans:  Goethe,  Schil- 
ler, Heine,  Hoffmann  von  Fallersleben,  Uhland, 

165 


FRANZ  LISZT 

Riickert  and  others.  Goethe  —  who  could  not 
even  understand  Schubert,  and  to  whom  Liszt's 
music  would  have  been  pure  Chinese  —  is  fa- 
voured by  settings  of  Mignon's  Lied  (Kennst  du 
das  Land),  Es  war  ein  Konig  in  Thule,  Der  du 
von  dem  Himmel  bist,  Ueber  alien  Gipfeln  ist 
Ruh,  Wer  nie  sein  Brod  mit  Thranen  ass,  Freud- 
voll  und  Leidvoll  (two  versions). 

"  Mignon  was  the  second  of  his  German  songs, 
and  it  is  the  most  deeply  emotional  of  all  the  set- 
tings of  that  famous  poem.  Longing  is  its  key- 
note; longing  for  blue-skyed  Italy,  with  its  or- 
ange groves,  marble  treasures  and  other  delights. 
One  of  the  things  which  Wagner  admired  in 
Liszt's  music  was  '  the  inspired  definiteness  of 
musical  conception'  which  enabled  him  to  con- 
centrate his  thought  and  feeling  in  so  pregnant 
a  way  that  one  felt  inclined  to  exclaim  after  a  few 
bars:  'Enough,  I  have  it  all.'  The  opening 
bar  of  Mignon's  Lied  thus  seems  to  condense  the 
longing  of  the  whole  song;  yet,  as  the  music  pro- 
ceeds, we  find  it  is  only  a  prelude  to  a  wealth  of 
musical  detail  which  colours  and  intensifies  every 
word  and  wish  of  the  poem. 

"All  of  the  six  settings  of  Goethe  poems  are 
gems,  and  Dr.  Hueffer  quite  properly  gave  each 
of  them  a  place  in  his  collection  of  Twenty  Liszt 
Songs.  Concerning  the  Wanderer's  Night  Song 
(Ueber  alien  Gipfeln  ist  Ruh),  Dr.  Hueffer  has 
well  said  that  Liszt  has  rendered  the  heavenly 
calm  of  the  poem  by  his  wonderful  harmonies  in 
a  manner  which  alone  would  secure  him  a  place 
i66 


AS  COMPOSER 

among  the  great  masters  of  German  song.  *  Par- 
ticularly the  modulation  from  G  major  back  into 
the  original  E  major  at  the  close  of  the  piece  is  of 
surprising  beauty,' 

"For  composers  of  musical  lyrics  Schiller  wrote 
much  fewer  available  poems  than  Goethe.  But 
Schubert  owed  to  him  one  of  his  finest  songs,  The 
Maiden's  Lament,  and  next  to  him  as  an  illus- 
trator of  Schiller  I  feel  inclined  to  place  Liszt,  who 
is  at  his  best  in  his  settings  of  three  poems  from 
William  Tell,  The  Fisher  Boy,  The  Shepherd 
and  The  Alpine  Hunter.  Liszt,  like  Schubert, 
favours  poems  which  bring  a  scene  or  a  story  viv- 
idly before  the  mind's  eye,  and  he  loves  to  write 
music  which  mirrors  these  pictorial  features. 
Schubert's  Mullerlieder  seemed  to  have  exhausted 
the  possible  ways  of  depicting  in  music  the 
movements  of  the  waters  —  but  listen  to  the  rip- 
pling arpeggios  in  Liszt's  Fisher  Boy,  embody- 
ing the  acquisitions  of  modern  pianistic  technic. 
The  shepherd's  song  brings  before  our  eyes  and 
ears  the  flower  meadows  and  the  brooks  of  the 
peaceful  Alpine  world  in  summer,  while  the  song 
of  the  hunter  gives  us  dissolving  views  of  destruc- 
tive avalanches  and  appalling  precipices,  with 
sudden  glimpses,  through  cloud  rifts,  of  mead- 
ows and  hamlets  at  dizzy  depths  below.  Wag- 
ner himself,  in  the  grandest  mountain  and  cloud 
scenes  of  the  Walkure  and  Siegfried,  has  not  writ- 
ten more  superbly  dissonant  and  appropriate 
dramatic  music  than  has  Liszt  in  this  exciting 
song." 

167 


FRANZ  LISZT 

The  King  of  Thule  and  Lorely  are  master- 
pieces and  contain  in  essence  all  the  dramatic 
lyricism  of  modern  writers,  Strauss  included. 

PIANO  AND  ORCHESTRA 

CONCERTO    FOR   PIANO    AND    ORCHESTRA,    NO.    I, 
IN   E  FLAT 

This,  the  better  known  of  Liszt's  two  piano- 
forte concertos,  is  constructed  along  the  general 
lines  of  the  symphonic  poem  —  a  species  of  free 
orchestral  composition  which  Liszt  himself  gave 
to  the  world.  The  score  embraces  four  sections 
arranged  like  the  four  movements  of  a  symphony, 
although  their  internal  development  is  of  so  free 
a  nature,  and  they  are  merged  one  into  another 
in  such  a  way  as  to  give  to  the  work  as  a  whole 
the  character  of  one  long  movement  developed 
from  several  fundamental  themes  and  sundry 
subsidiaries  derived  therefrom.  The  first  of  these 
themes  [this  is  the  theme  to  which  Liszt  used 
to  sing,  "  Das  versteht  ihr  alle  nicht!"  but,  ac- 
cording to  Von  Billow  and  Ramann,  "  Ihr  konnt 
alle  nichts!"]  appears  at  the  outset,  being  given 
out  by  the  strings  with  interrupting  chords  of 
wood-wind  and  brass  allegro  maestoso  leading  at 
once  to  an  elaborate  cadenza  for  the  pianoforte. 
The  second  theme,  which  marks  the  beginning  of 
the  second  section  —  in  B  major,  Quasi  adagio 
and  12-8  (4-4)  time  —  is  announced  by  the 
deeper  strings  (muted)  to  be  taken  up  by  the  solo 
168 


AS  COMPOSER 

instrument  over  flowing  left-hand  arpeggios.  A 
long  trill  for  the  pianoforte,  embellished  by  ex- 
pressive melodies  from  sundry  instruments  of  the 
orchestra,  leads  to  the  third  section  —  in  E-flat 
minor,  allegretto  vivace  and  3-4  time  —  where- 
upon the  strings  give  out  a  sparkling  scherzo 
theme  which  the  solo  instrument  proceeds  to  de- 
velop capriciously.  This  section  closes  with  a 
pianissimo  cadenza  for  the  pianoforte  following 
which  a  rhapsodical  passage  (Allegro  animato) 
leads  to  the  finale  —  in  E-flat  major,  Allegro  mar- 
ziale  animato  and  4-4  time  —  in  which  the  sec- 
ond theme  reappears  transformed  into  a  spir- 
ited march." 

The  concerto  was  composed  in  1848,  revised 
in  1853,  and  published  in  1857.  It  was  per- 
formed for  the  first  time  at  Weimar  during  the 
Berlioz  week,  February  16,  1855,  when  Liszt  was 
the  pianist  and  Berlioz  conducted  the  orchestra. 
It  is  dedicated  to  Henri  Litolff. 

Liszt  wrote  at  some  length  concerning  this 
concerto  in  a  letter  to  Eduard  Liszt,  dated  Wei- 
mar, March  26,  1857: 

"The  fourth  movement  of  the  concerto  from 
the  Allegro  marziale  corresponds  with  the  second 
movement,  Adagio.  It  is  only  an  urgent  re- 
capitulation of  the  earlier  subject-matter  with 
quickened,  livelier  rhythm,  and  contains  no  new 
motive,  as  will  be  clear  to  you  by  a  glance  through 
the  score.  This  kind  of  binding  together  and 
rounding  off  a  whole  piece  at  its  close  is  some- 
what my  own,  but  it  is  quite  maintained  and  justi- 
169 


FRANZ  LISZT 

fied  from  the  stand-point  of  musical  form.  The 
trombones  and  basses  take  up  the  second  part  of 
the  motive  of  the  Adagio  (B  major).  The  pi- 
anoforte figure  which  follows  is  no  other  than  the 
reproduction  of  the  motive  which  was  given  in  the 
Adagio  by  flute  and  clarinet,  just  as  the  conclud- 
ing passage  is  a  Variante  and  working  up  in  the 
major  of  the  motive  of  the  Scherzo,  until  finally 
the  first  motive  on  the  dominant  pedal  B-flat, 
with  a  shake-accompaniment,  comes  in  and  con- 
cludes the  whole. 

"The  Scherzo  in  E-flat minor,  from  the  point 
where  the  triangle  begins,  I  employed  for  the  ef- 
fect of  contrast. 

"  As  regards  the  triangle  I  do  not  deny  that  it 
may  give  offence,  especially  if  struck  too  strong 
and  not  precisely.  A  preconceived  disinclina- 
tion and  objection  to  instruments  of  percussion 
prevails,  somewhat  justified  by  the  frequent  mis- 
use of  them.  And  few  conductors  are  circum- 
spect enough  to  bring  out  the  rhythmic  element 
in  them,  without  the  raw  addition  of  a  coarse 
noisiness,  in  works  in  which  they  are  deliberately 
employed  according  to  the  intention  of  the  com- 
poser. The  dynamic  and  rhythmic  spicing  and 
enhancement,  which  are  effected  by  the  instru- 
ments of  percussion,  would  in  more  cases  be  much 
more  effectually  produced  by  the  careful  trying 
and  proportioning  of  insertions  and  additions  of 
that  kind.  But  musicians  who  wish  to  appear 
serious  and  solid  prefer  to  treat  the  instruments  of 
percussion  en  canaille,  which  must  not  make  their 
170 


AS  COMPOSER 

appearance  in  the  seemly  company  of  the  sym- 
phony. They  also  bitterly  deplore  inwardly 
that  Beethoven  allowed  himself  to  be  seduced 
into  using  the  big  drum  and  triangle  in  the  Finale 
of  the  Ninth  Symphony.  Of  Berlioz,  Wagner, 
and  my  humble  self,  it  is  no  wonder  that  'like 
draws  to  like,'  and,  as  we  are  treated  as  impotent 
canaille  amongst  musicians,  it  is  quite  natural 
that  we  should  be  on  good  terms  with  the  canaille 
among  the  instruments.  Certainly  here,  as  in 
all  else,  it  is  the  right  thing  to  seize  upon  and  hold 
fast  [the]  mass  of  harmony.  In  face  of  the  most 
wise  proscription  of  the  learned  critics  I  shall, 
however,  continue  to  employ  instruments  of  per- 
cussion, and  think  I  shall  yet  win  for  them  some 
effects  httle  known." 

"This  eulogy  of  the  triangle,"  Mr.  Philip 
Hale  says,  "  was  inspired  by  the  opposition  in  Vi- 
enna when  Pruckner  played  the  concerto  in  that 
city  (season  of  1856-57).  Hanslick  cursed  the 
work  by  characterising  it  as  a  'Triangle  Con- 
certo,' and  for  some  years  the  concerto  was  there- 
fore held  to  be  impossible.  It  was  not  played 
again  in  Vienna  until  1869,  when  Sophie  Menter 
paid  no  attention  to  the  advice  of  the  learned  and 
her  well-wishers.  Lina  Ramann  tells  the  story. 
Rubinstein,  who  happened  to  be  there,  said  to 
her:  *  You  are  not  going  to  be  so  crazy  as  to  play 
this  concerto  ?  No  one  has  yet  had  any  luck  with 
it  in  Vienna.'  Bosendorfer,  who  represented  the 
Philharmonic  Society,  warned  her  against  it. 
To  which  Sofie  replied  coolly  in  her  Munich 
171 


FRANZ  LISZT 

German:  'Wenn  i  dos  nit  spielen  kann,  speil  i 
goar  nit  —  i  muss  ja  nit  in  Wien  spielen'  ('if  I 
can't  play  it,  I  don't  play  at  all  —  I  must  not  play 
in  Vienna').  She  did  play  it,  and  with  great 
success. 

"Yet  the  triangle  is  an  old  and  esteemed  in- 
strument. In  the  eighteenth  century  it  was  still 
furnished  with  metal  rings,  as  was  its  forbear, 
the  sistrum.  The  triangle  is  pictured  honourably 
in  the  second  part  of  Michael  Pratorius'  'Syn- 
tagma musicum'  (Part  II.,  plate  xxii.,  Wolffen- 
biittel,  1618).  Haydn  used  it  in  his  military 
symphony,  Schumann  in  the  first  movement  of 
his  B-flat  symphony;  and  how  well  Auber  under- 
stood its  charm!" 

CONCERTO   FOR    PIANO,    NO.    2,    IN   A   MAJOR 

This  concerto,  as  well  as  the  one  in  E-flat,  was 
probably  composed  in  1848.  It  was  revised  in 
1856  and  in  1861,  and  pubhshed  in  1863.  It  is 
dedicated  to  Hans  von  Bronsart,  by  whom  it  was 
played  for  the  first  time  January  7,  1857,  at  Wei- 
mar. 

The  autograph  manuscript  of  this  concerto 
bore  the  title,  "Concert  Symphonique,"  and,  as 
Mr.  Apthorp  once  remarked,  "The  work  might 
be  called  a  symphonic  poem  for  pianoforte  and 
orchestra,  with  the  title,  'The  Life  and  Adven- 
tures of  a  Melody.' " 

The  concerto  is  in  one  movement.  The  first 
and  chief  theme  binds  the  various  episodes  into 
172 


AS  COMPOSER 

an  organic  whole.  Adagio  sostenuto  assai,  A 
major,  3-4.  The  first  theme  is  announced  at 
once  by  wood- wind  instruments.  It  is  a  moaning 
and  wailing  theme,  accompanied  by  harmonies 
shifting  in  tonality.  The  pianoforte  gives  in 
arpeggios  the  first  transformation  of  this  musical 
thought  and  in  massive  chords  the  second  trans- 
formation. The  horn  begins  a  new  and  dreamy 
song.  After  a  short  cadenza  of  the  solo  instru- 
ment a  more  brilliant  theme  in  D  minor  is  in- 
troduced and  developed  by  both  pianoforte  and 
orchestra.  A  powerful  crescendo  (pianoforte 
alternating  with  string  and  wood-wind  instru- 
ments) leads  to  a  scherzo-like  section  of  the  con- 
certo, Allegro  agitato  assai,  B-flat  minor,  6-8. 
A  side  motive  fortissimo  (pianoforte)  leads  to  a 
quiet  middle  section.  Allegro  moderato,  which  is 
built  substantially  on  the  chief  theme  (solo 
'cello).  A  subsidiary  theme,  introduced  by  the 
pianoforte,  is  continued  by  flute  and  oboe,  and 
there  is  a  return  to  the  first  motive.  A  piano- 
forte cadenza  leads  to  a  new  tempo.  Allegro  de- 
ciso,  in  which  rhythms  of  already  noted  themes 
are  combined,  and  a  new  theme  appears  (violas 
and  'cellos) ,  which  at  last  leads  back  to  the  tempo 
of  the  quasi-scherzo.  But  let  us  use  the  words 
of  Mr.  Apthorp  rather  than  a  dry  analytical 
sketch:  'From  this  point  onward  the  concerto 
is  one  unbroken  series  of  kaleidoscopic  effects 
of  the  most  brilliant  and  ever-changing  descrip- 
tion; of  musical  form,  of  musical  coherence  even, 
there  is  less  and  less.     It  is  as  if  some  magician 

173 


FRANZ   LISZT 

in  some  huge  cave,  the  walls  of  which  were  cov- 
ered with  glistening  stalactites  and  flashing  jew- 
els, were  revealing  his  fill  of  all  the  wonders  of 
colour,  brilliancy,  and  dazzling  light  his  wand 
could  command.  Never  has  even  Liszt  rioted 
more  unreservedly  in  fitful  orgies  of  flashing 
colour.  It  is  monstrous,  formless,  whimsical, 
and  fantastic,  if  you  will;  but  it  is  also  magical 
and  gorgeous  as  anything  in  the  Arabian  Nights. 
It  is  its  very  daring  and  audacity  that  save  it. 
And  ever  and  anon  the  first  wailing  melody,  with 
its  unearthly  chromatic  harmony,  returns  in  one 
shape  or  another,  as  if  it  were  the  dazzled  neo- 
phyte to  whom  the  magician  Liszt  were  showing 
all  these  splendours,  while  initiating  it  into  the 
mysteries  of  the  world  of  magic,  until  it,  too,  be- 
comes magical,  and  possessed  of  the  power  of 
working  wonders  by  black  art.'  " 


THE  DANCE  OF  DEATH 

Liszt's  Todtentanz  is  a  tremendous  work.  This 
set  of  daring  variations  had  not  been  heard  in 
New  York  since  Franz  Rumm.el  played  them 
years  ago,  under  the  baton  of  the  late  Leopold 
Damrosch,  although  d' Albert,  Siloti  and  Alex- 
ander Lambert  have  had  them  on  their  pro- 
grammes —  in  each  case  some  circumstance  pre- 
vented our  hearing  them  here.  Harold  Bauer 
played  them  with  the  Boston  Symphony,  both  in 
Boston  and  Brooklyn,  and  Philip  Hale,  in  his 

174 


AS  COMPOSER 

admirable  notes  on  these  concerts,  has  writ- 
ten in  part:  "  Liszt  was  thrilled  by  a  fresco  in 
the  Campo  Santo  of  Pisa,  when  he  sojourned 
there  in  1838  and  1839.  This  fresco,  The  Tri- 
umph of  Death,  was  for  many  years  attributed 
to  a  Florentine,  Andrea  Orcagna,  but  some  in- 
sist that  it  was  painted  by  Pietro  and  Ambrogio 
Lorenzetti." 

The  right  of  this  fantastical  fresco  portrays  a 
group  of  men  and  women,  who,  with  dogs  and 
falcons,  appear  to  be  back  from  the  chase,  or  they 
may  be  sitting  as  in  Boccaccio's  garden.  They 
are  sumptuously  dressed.  A  minstrel  and  a  dam- 
sel sing  to  them,  while  cupids  flutter  about  and 
wave  torches.  But  Death  flies  swiftly  toward 
them,  a  fearsome  woman,  with  hair  streaming 
wildly,  with  clawed  hands.  She  is  bat-winged, 
and  her  clothing  is  stiff  with  mire.  She  swings 
a  scythe,  eager  to  end  the  joy  and  delight  of  the 
world.  Corpses  lie  in  a  heap  at  her  feet  — 
corpses  of  kings,  queens,  cardinals,  warriors,  the 
great  ones  of  the  earth,  whose  souls,  in  the  shape 
of  new  born  babes,  rise  out  of  them.  "Angels 
like  gay  butterflies"  are  ready  to  receive  the  right- 
eous, who  fold  their  hands  in  prayer;  demons 
welcome  the  damned,  who  shrink  back  with  hor- 
ror. The  devils,  who  are  as  beasts  of  prey  or 
loathsome  reptiles,  fight  for  souls;  the  angels  rise 
to  heaven  with  the  saved ;  the  demons  drag  their 
victims  to  a  burning  mountain  and  throw  them 
into  the  flames.  And  next  this  heap  of  corpses 
is  a  crowd  of  beggars,  cripples,  miserable  ones, 

175 


FRANZ  LISZT 

who  beg  Death  to  end  their  woe;  but  they  do  not 
interest  her.  A  rock  separates  this  scene  from 
another,  the  chase.  Gallant  lords  and  noble 
dames  are  on  horseback,  and  hunters  with  dogs 
and  falcons  follow  in  their  train.  They  come 
upon  three  open  graves,  in  which  lie  three 
princes  in  different  stages  of  decay.  An  aged 
monk  on  crutches,  possibly  the  Saint  Macarius, 
points  to  this  memento  mori.  They  talk  gaily, 
although  one  of  them  holds  his  nose.  Only  one 
of  the  party,  a  woman,  rests  her  head  on  her 
hand  and  shows  a  sorrowful  face.  On  mountain 
heights  above  are  hermits,  who  have  reached 
through  abstinence  and  meditation  the  highest 
state  of  human  existence.  One  milks  a  doe  while 
squirrels  play  about  him;  another  sits  and  reads; 
a  third  looks  into  a  valley  that  is  rank  with 
death.  And,  according  to  tradition,  the  faces  in 
this  fresco  are  portraits  of  the  painter's  con- 
temporaries. 

How  such  a  scene  must  have  appealed  to  Liszt 
is  easily  comprehensible,  and  he  put  it  into  musi- 
cal form  by  taking  a  dour  Dies  Lrae  theme  and 
putting  it  through  the  several  variations  of  the 
emotions  akin  to  the  sardonic.  The  composer 
himself  referred  to  the  work  as  "a  monstrosity," 
and  he  must  have  realised  full  well  that  it  would 
stick  in  the  crop  of  the  philistines.  And  it  has. 
But  Von  Billow  stood  godfather  to  the  work  and 
dared  criticism  by  playing  it. 

As  a  work  it  is  absolutely  unconventional  and 
follows  no  distinct  programme,  as  does  the  Saint- 
176 


AS  COMPOSER 

Saens  "clever  cemetery  farce."  Its  opening  is 
gloomily  impressive  and  the  orchestration  fear- 
fully bold.  The  piano  in  it  is  put  to  various  uses, 
with  a  fill  of  glissandi  matching  the  diabolic 
mood.  The  cadenzas  might  be  dispensed  with, 
but,  after  all,  the  piece  was  written  by  Liszt,  and 
cadenzas  were  a  part  of  his  nature.  But  to  take 
this  work  lightly  is  to  jest  with  values.  The 
theme  itself  is  far  too  great  to  be  depreciated  and 
the  treatments  of  it  are  marvellous.  Our  ears 
rebel  a  bit  that  the  several  variations  were  not 
joined  —  which  they  might  easily  have  been  — 
and  then  the  work  would  sound  more  en  bloc. 
But,  notwithstanding,  it  is  one  of  the  most  strik- 
ing of  Liszt's  piano  compositions. 

BURMEISTER  ARRANGEMENTS 

Richard  Burmeister  made  an  arrangement  of 
Liszt's  Concerto  Pathetique  in  E  minor  by  chang- 
ing its  original  form  for  two  pianos  into  a  concerto 
for  piano  solo  with  orchestral  accompaniment. 
Until  now  the  original  has  remained  almost  an 
unknown  composition;  partly  for  the  reason 
that  it  needed  for  a  performance  two  first  rank 
piano  virtuosi  to  master  the  extreme  technical 
difficulties  and  partly  that  Liszt  had  chosen  for 
it  such  a  rhapsodical  and  whimsical  form  as 
to  make  it  an  absolutely  ineffective  concert  piece. 
Even  Hans  von  Biilow  tried  in  a  new  edition  to 
improve  some  passages  by  making  them  more 
consistent,  but  without  success. 
177 


FRANZ  LISZT 

However,  as  the  concerto  contains  pathetic 
musical  ideas,  among  the  best  Liszt  conceived 
and  is  of  too  much  value  to  be  lost,  Mr.  Bur- 
meister  ventured  to  give  it  a  form  by  which  he 
hopes  to  make  it  as  popular  as  the  famous  E-flat 
major  concerto  by  the  same  composer.  The  task 
was  a  rather  risky  one,  as  some  radical  changes 
had  to  be  made  and  the  cha.racter  of  the  composi- 
tion preserved. 

To  employ  a  comparison,  Mr.  Burmeister  cut 
the  concerto  like  a  beautiful  but  badly  tuned  bell 
into  pieces  and  melted  and  moulded  it  again 
into  a  new  form.  Some  passages  had  to  change 
places,  some  others  to  be  omitted,  others  again 
repeated  and  enlarged.  Mr.  Burmeister  went 
even  so  far  as  to  add  some  of  his  own  passages  — 
for  instance,  a  cadence  at  the  beginning  of  the 
piano  part,  the  end  of  the  slow  movement  and  a 
short  fugato  introducing  the  finale.  As  to  the 
new  form,  the  result  now  comes  very  near  to  a 
restoration  of  the  old  classical  form :  Allegro  — 
Andante  —  Allegro. 

Mr.  Burmeister  has  also  made  a  very  efifec- 
tive  welding  of  Liszt's  diabolic  Mephisto  Waltz 
for  piano  and  orchestra  which  he  has  success- 
fully played  in  Germany.  He  also  arranged  the 
Fifth  Hungarian  Rhapsody  for  piano  and  orches- 
tra (Heroide  —  Elegiaque).  To  Mr.  Burmeis- 
ter I  am  indebted  for  valuable  information  re- 
garding his  beloved  master  Liszt,  with  whom  he 
studied  in  Weimar,  Rome  and  Budapest. 


178 


AS  COMPOSER 


THE  OPERATIC  PARAPHRASES 

"It  is  commonly  assumed  that  the  first  musi- 
cian who  made  a  concert  speech  of  the  kind  now 
so  much  in  vogue  was  Hans  von  Biilow,"  says 
Mr.  Finck.  "Probably  he  was  the  first  who 
made  such  speeches  frequently,  and  he  doubtless 
made  the  longest  on  record,  when,  on  March  28, 
1892,  he  harangued  a  Philharmonic  audience  in 
Berlin  on  Beethoven  and  Bismarck;  this  address 
covers  three  pages  of  Billow's  invaluable  Briefe 
und  Schriften.  The  first  concert  speech,  how- 
ever, was  made  by  that  many-sided  innovator, 
Franz  Liszt,  who  tells  about  it  in  an  amusing  let- 
ter he  wrote  from  Milan  to  the  Paris  Gazette 
Musicale,  in  1837.  It  was  about  this  time  that 
he  originated  the  custom  of  giving  'piano  re- 
citals,' as  he  called  them;  that  is,  monologues  by 
the  solo  pianist,  without  assisting  artist  or  or- 
chestra. In  Italy,  where  he  first  took  to  this 
habit,  it  was  particularly  risky,  because  the  Ital- 
ians cared  for  little  besides  operatic  pomp,  vocal 
display,  and  strongly  spiced  musical  effect.  For 
pianists,  in  particular,  they  had  little  or  no  use. 
In  those  days  (and  times  have  not  changed),  a 
pianist  travelling  in  Italy  was  wise  if,  in  the  words 
of  Liszt,  he  'pined  for  the  sun  rather  than  for 
fame,  and  sought  repose  rather  than  gold.' 

"He  succeeded,  nevertheless,  in  making  the 
Italians  interested  in  piano  playing,  but  he  had 
to  stoop  to  conquer.  When  he  played  one  of 
179 


FRANZ  LISZT 

his  own  Etudes,  a  gentleman  in  the  pit  called  out 
that  he  had  come  to  the  theatre  to  be  entertained 
and  not  to  hear  a  'studio.'  Liszt  thereupon  im- 
provised fantasias  on  Italian  operatic  melodies, 
which  aroused  tumultuous  enthusiasm.  He  also 
asked  the  audiences,  after  the  fashion  of  the  time, 
to  suggest  themes  for  him  to  improvise  on  or  top- 
ics for  him  to  illustrate  in  tones.  One  auditor 
suggested  the  Milan  Cathedral,  another  the  rail- 
way, while  a  third  sent  up  a  paper  asking  Liszt 
to  discuss  on  the  piano  the  question:  'Is  it  better 
to  marry  or  remain  a  bachelor  ? '  This  was  a  lit- 
tle too  much  even  for  the  pianist,  who  was  des- 
tined to  become  the  supreme  master  of  pro- 
gramme music,  so  he  made  a  speech.  To  cite 
his  own  words:  'As  I  could  only  have  answered 
this  question  after  a  long  pause,  I  preferred  to  re- 
call to  the  audience  the  words  of  a  wise  man: 
"Whatever  you  do,  marry  or  remain  single,  you 
will  be  sure  to  regret  it."  You  see,  my  friend, 
that  I  have  found  a  splendid  means  of  rendering 
a  concert  cheerful  when  ennui  makes  it  rather  a 
cool  duty  than  a  pleasure.  Was  I  wrong  to  say 
my  Anch'io  in  this  land  of  improvisation?' 

"The  operatic  fantasias  which  Liszt  first  im- 
provised for  the  Italians  found  great  favour  in 
other  countries;  so  much  so  that  eager  publish- 
ers used  to  follow  him  from  city  to  city,  begging 
him  to  put  them  on  paper,  and  allow  them  to 
print  them.  There  are  thirty-six  of  these  fantasias 
in  all,  ranging  from  Sonnambula  and  Lucia  to 
the  operas  of  Meyerbeer,  Verdi,  and  Wagner. 
i8o 


AS  COMPOSER 

It  has  been  the  fashion  among  critics  to  sneer  at 
them,  but,  as  Saint-Saens  has  said,  there  is  much 
pedantry  and  prejudice  in  these  sneers.  In  struc- 
ture they  are  as  artistic  as  the  overtures  to  such 
operas  as  Zampa,  Euryanthe,  and  Tannhauser, 
which  likewise  are  'practically  nothing  but  fan- 
tasias on  the  operas  which  they  introduce.'  Ber- 
lioz was  the  first  to  point  out  how,  in  these  pieces, 
Liszt  actually  improves  on  the  originals;  in  the 
Robert  the  Devil  fantasia,  for  instance,  his  in- 
genious way  of  combining  the  Bertram  aria  of  the 
third  act  with  the  aria  of  the  ballet  of  nuns  pro- 
duced an  'indescribable dramatic  effect.'  What 
is  more,  these  fantasias  contain  much  of  Liszt's 
own  genius,  not  to  speak  of  his  wonderful  pian- 
istic  idiom.  He  scattered  his  own  pearls  and 
diamonds  among  them  lavishly." 


THE  ETUDES 

The  late  Edward  Dannreuther,  who  changed 
his  opinion  of  Liszt,  wrote  a  short  introduction 
to  his  edition  of  the  Transcendental  Studies 
(Augener  &  Co.)  which  is  of  interest. 

"The  Etudes,  which  head  the  thematic  cata- 
logue of  Liszt's  works,  show,  better  than  any- 
thing else,  the  transformation  his  style  has  under- 
gone; and  for  this  reason  it  may  be  well  to  trace 
the  growth  of  some  of  them.  Etudes  en  douze 
exercices,  par  Francois  Liszt,  Op.  i,  were  pub- 
lished at  Marseilles  in  1827.  They  were  written 
181 


FRANZ  LISZT 

during  the  previous  year,  Liszt  being  then  under 
sixteen.  The  second  set  of  Etudes,  dediees  a 
Monsieur  Charles  Czerny,  appeared  in  1839,  but 
were  cancelled;  and  the  Etudes  d'execution 
transcendante,  again  dedicated  to  Czerny,  "  en 
temoignage  de  reconnaissance  et  de  respectueuse 
amitie  de  son  elfeve,"  appeared  in  1852.  The  now 
cancelled  copy  of  the  Etudes  which  Schumann 
had  before  him  in  1839,  when  he  wrote  his  brill- 
iant article,  shows  these  studies  to  be  more  ex- 
travagant and,  in  some  instances,  technically 
more  diflScult  than  even  the  final  version.  The 
germs  of  both  the  new  versions  are  to  be  seen  in 
the  Op.  I  of  1827.  Schumann  transcribed  a 
couple  of  bars  from  the  beginning  of  Nos.  i,  5,  9, 
and  II,  from  both  the  new  and  old  copies,  and 
offered  a  few  of  his  swift  and  apt  comments. 
The  various  changes  in  these  Etudes  may  be 
taken  to  represent  the  history  of  the  pianoforte 
during  the  last  half  of  the  nineteenth  century, 
from  the  'Viennese  Square'  to  the  concert  grand, 
from  Czerny's  Schule  der  Gelaufigkeit  to  Liszt's 
Danse  macabre.  Czerny  might  have  written  the 
original  exercise  No.  i,  but  it  would  not  have  been 
so  shapely  a  thing  as  Liszt's  final  version.  The 
difference  between  the  two  versions  of  No.  i  is, 
however,  considerably  less  than  that  which  sep- 
arates Nos.  2,  3,  and  4  from  their  predecessors. 
If  the  earlier  and  the  later  versions  of  No.  3  in  F 
and  No.  4  in  D  minor  were  signed  by  different 
composers,  the  resemblance  between  them  would 
hardly  attract  notice.  Of  No.  2  little  remains  as 
182 


AS  COMPOSER 

it  stood  at  first.  Instead  of  a  reduction  there  is 
an  increase  (38  to  102)  in  the  number  of  bars. 
Some  harmonic  commonplaces  which  disfigure 
the  original,  as,  for  instance,  the  detour  to  C 
(bars  9-16),  have  been  removed.  The  remainder 
is  enlarged,  so  as  to  allow  of  more  extensive  mod- 
ulation, and  thus  to  avoid  redundancy.  A  short 
introduction  and  a  coda  are  added,  and  the  dic- 
tion throughout  is  thrown  into  high  relief.  Pay- 
sage,  No.  3  in  F,  has  been  subjected  to  further 
alteration  since  Schumann  wrote  about  it.  In 
his  article  he  commends  the  second  version  as 
being  more  interesting  than  the  first,  and  points 
to  a  change  of  movement  from  square  to  triple 
time,  and  to  the  melody  which  is  superadded,  as 
improvements.  On  the  other  hand  he  calls  an 
episode  in  A  major  'comparatively  trivial,'  and 
this,  it  may  be  noticed,  is  omitted  in  the  final 
version.  As  it  now  stands,  the  piece  is  a  test 
study  for  pianists  who  aim  at  refinement  of  style, 
tone,  and  touch.  The  Etude  entitled  Mazeppa 
is  particularly  characteristic  of  Liszt's  power  of 
endurance  at  the  instrument,  and  it  exhibits  the 
gradual  growth  of  his  manner,  from  pianoforte 
exercises  to  symphonic  poems  in  the  manner  of 
Berlioz.  It  was  this  Etude,  together  perhaps 
with  Nos.  7  (Vision),  8  (Wilde  Jagd),  and  12 
(Chasse-neige),  that  induced  Schumann  to  speak 
of  the  entire  set  as  Wahre  Sturm-  und  Graus- 
Etuden  (Studies  of  storm  and  dread) ,  studies  for, 
at  the  most,  ten  or  twelve  players  in  the  world. 
The  original  of  No.  5,  in  B  flat,  is  a  mere  trifle, 

183 


FRANZ  LISZT 

in  the  manner  of  J.  B.  Cramer  —  the  final  ver- 
sion entitled  Feux  follets  is  one  of  the  most  re- 
markable transformations  extant,  and  perhaps 
the  best  study  of  the  entire  series,  consistent  in 
point  of  musical  design  and  full  of  delicate  tech- 
nical contrivances.  Ricordanza,  No.  9,  and 
Harmonies  du  soir,  No.  11,  may  be  grouped  to- 
gether as  showing  how  a  musical  Stimmungsbild 
(a  picture  of  a  mood  or  an  expression  of  senti- 
ment) can  be  evoked  from  rather  trite  beginnings. 
Schumann  speaks  of  the  melody  in  E  major, 
which  occurs  in  the  middle  of  the  latter  piece,  as 
"the  most  sincerely  felt";  and  in  the  last  version 
it  is  much  improved.  Both  pieces,  Ricordanza 
and  Harmonies  du  soir,  show  to  perfection  the 
sonority  of  the  instrument  in  its  various  aspects. 
The  latter  piece.  Harmonies  du  soir  in  the  first, 
as  well  as  in  the  final  version,  appears  as  a  kind 
of  Nocturne.  No.  10,  again,  begins  as  though  it 
were  Czemy's  (a)  and  in  the  cancelled  edition 
is  developed  into  an  Etude  of  almost  insuperable 
difl&culty  (b).  As  finally  rewritten,  this  study  is 
possible  to  play  and  well  worth  playing  (c). 

"No.  12  also  has  been  recast  and  much  manip- 
ulated, but  there  is  no  mending  of  weak  timber. 
We  must  also  mention  Ab-Irato,  an  Etude  in  E 
minor  cancelled  and  entirely  rewritten;  three 
Etudes  de  concert  (the  second  of  which  has  al- 
ready been  mentioned  as  Chopinesque) ;  and  two 
fine  Etudes,  much  later  in  date  and  of  moderate 
difficulty,  Waldesrauschen  and  Gnomentanz. 
The  Paganini  Studies,  i.e.,  transcriptions  in  ri- 
184 


AS  COMPOSER 

valry  with  Schumann  of  certain  Caprices  for 
the  violin  by  Paganini,  and  far  superior  to  Schu- 
mann's, do  not  call  for  detailed  comment.  They 
were  several  times  rewritten  (final  edition,  1852) 
as  Liszt,  the  virtuoso,  came  to  distinguish  be- 
tween proper  pianoforte  effects  and  mere  hap- 
hazard bravura." 

The  first  version  of  the  Ab-Irato  was  a  contri- 
bution to  Fetis'  and  Moscheles'  Mdthode  des  Md- 
thodes,  Paris,  1842,  where  it  is  designated  Mor- 
ceau  de  Salon  —  Etude  de  Perfectionnement. 
The  second  version,  Berlin,  1852,  was  presented 
as  "entierement  revue  et  corrigde  par  I'Auteur" 
and  called  Ab-Irato  {i.e.  in  a  rage,  or  in  a  fit  of 
temper).  It  exceeds  the  first  version  by  28  bars 
and  is  a  striking  improvement,  showing  the 
growth  of  Liszt's  technic  and  his  constant 
effort  to  be  emphatic  and  to  avoid  commonplace. 

No  pianist  can  afford  to  ignore  Liszt's 
Etudes  —  he  may  disparage  them  if  he  chooses, 
but  he  ought  to  be  able  to  play  them  properly. 
We  play  the  three  B's,  Bach,  Beethoven,  Brahms, 
each  from  a  somewhat  different  point  of  view. 
But  these  great  men  have  this  in  common,  that 
in  each  case,  yet  in  a  different  degree,  when  we 
play  their  music  we  address  the  hearer's  intel- 
lect rather  than  his  nervous  sensibility  —  though 
the  latter  is  never  excluded.  With  Liszt  and  his 
pupils  the  appeal  is,  often  and  without  disguise, 
rather  an  appeal  to  the  hearer's  nerves;  but  the 
methods  employed  are,  in  the  master's  case  at 
least,  so  very  clever,  and  altogether  hors  ligne, 

185 


FRANZ  LISZT 

that  a  musician's  intelligence,  too,  may  be  de- 
lighted and  stimulated. 

Of  the  B-minor  sonata  Dannreuther  has  writ- 
ten: 

"  The  work  is  a  curious  compound  of  true  ge- 
nius and  empty  rhetoric,  which  contains  enough 
of  genuine  impulse  and  originality  in  the  themes 
of  the  opening  section,  and  of  suave  charm  in  the 
melody  of  the  section  that  stands  for  the  slow 
movement,  to  secure  the  hearer's  attention.  Signs 
of  weakness  occur  only  in  the  centre,  where,  ac- 
cording to  his  wont,  Liszt  seems  unable  to  resist 
the  temptation  to  tear  passion  to  tatters  and 
strain  oratory  to  bombast.  None  the  less  the  So- 
nata is  an  interesting  study,  eminently  success- 
ful  in  parts,  and  well  worthy  the  attention  of 
pianists. 

"Two  Ballades, a  Berceuse,  aValse-impromptu, 
a  Mazurka,  and  two  Polonaises  sink  irretriev- 
ably if  compared  with  Chopin's  pieces  similarly 
entitled.  The  Scherzo  und  Marsch  in  D  mi- 
nor, an  inordinately  difficult  and  somewhat  dry 
piece,  falls  short  of  its  aim.  Two  legends,  St. 
Francis  of  Assisi  preaching  to  the  birds,  a  clever 
and  delicate  piece,  and  St.  Francis  of  Paula  step- 
ping on  the  waves,  a  kind  of  Etude,  are  examples 
of  picturesque  and  decorous  programme  music. 

"  Liszt  was  also  a  master  in  the  notation  of  pi- 
anoforte music  —  a  very  difficult  matter  indeed, 
and  one  in  which  even  Chopin  frequently  erred. 
His  method  of  notation  coincides  in  the  main 
with  that  of  Beethoven,    Berlioz,  Wagner,  and 

i86 


AS  COMPOSER 

Brahms.  Let  the  player  accurately  play  what 
is  set  down  and  the  result  will  be  satisfactory. 
The  perspicuity  of  certain  pages  of  Liszt's  ma- 
ture pianoforte  pieces,  such  as  the  first  two  sets 
of  Annees  de  pelerinage,  Consolations,  Sonata  in 
B  minor,  the  Concertos,  the  Danse  macabre,  and 
the  Rhapsodies  hongroises,  cannot  be  surpassed. 
His  notation  often  represents  a  condensed  score, 
and  every  rest  not  absolutely  necessary  is  avoided; 
again,  no  attempt  is  made  to  get  a  semblance  of  an 
agreement  between  the  rhythmic  division  of  the 
bar  and  the  freedom  of  certain  rapid  ornamen- 
tal passages,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  everything 
essential  to  the  rendering  of  accent  or  melody, 
to  the  position  of  the  hands  on  the  keyboard, 
to  the  details  of  special  fingering  and  special 
pedalling,  is  faithfully  recorded.  Thus  the  most 
complex  difficulties,  as  in  the  Fantaisies  Dra- 
matiques,  and  even  apparently  uncontrollable 
effects  of  tempo  rubato,  as  in  the  first  fifteen  Rhap- 
sodies or  the  Etude  Ricordanza,  or  the  Tre  So- 
netti  di  Petrarca,  are  so  closely  indicated  that  the 
particular  effect  intended  cannot  be  mistaken." 

THE  MASSES  AND  THE  PSALMS 

In  his  studies  of  Liszt's  religious  music,  con- 
tributed to  the  Oxford  History  of  Music,  Ed- 
ward Dannreuther,  then  no  longer  a  partisan  of 
Liszt,  said  of  his  mass: 

"Among  Liszt's  many  contributions  to  the 
repertoire  of  Catholic  church  music  the  Missa 
187 


FRANZ  LISZT 

solemnis,  known  as  the  Graner  Festmesse,  is  the 
most  conspicuous.  Written  to  order  in  1855, 
performed  at  the  Consecration  of  the  Basilica 
at  Gran,  in  Hungary,  in  1856,  it  was  Liszt's  first 
serious  effort  in  the  way  of  church  music  proper, 
and  shows  him  at  his  best  in  so  far  as  personal 
energy  and  high  aim  are  concerned.  'More 
prayed  than  composed,'  he  said,  in  1856,  when  he 
wanted  to  smooth  the  way  for  it  in  Wagner's  es- 
timation — '  more  criticised  than  heard,'  when  it 
failed  to  please  in  the  Church  of  St.  Eustache, 
in  Paris,  in  1866.  It  certainly  is  an  interesting 
and,  in  many  ways,  a  remarkable  work. 

"  Liszt's  instincts  led  him  to  perceive  that  the 
Catholic  service,  which  makes  a  strong  appeal  to 
the  senses,  as  well  as  to  the  emotions,  was  emi- 
nently suited  to  musical  illustration.  He  thought 
his  chance  lay  in  the  fact  that  the  function  as- 
signed to  music  in  the  ceremonial  is  mainly  dec- 
orative, and  that  it  would  be  possible  to  develop 
still  further  its  emotional  side.  The  Church 
employs  music  to  enforce  and  embellish  the 
Word.  But  the  expansion  of  music  is  always 
controlled  and  in  some  sense  limited  by  the 
Word  —  for  the  prescribed  words  are  not  sub- 
ject to  change.  Liszt,  however,  came  to  inter- 
pret the  Catholic  ritual  in  a  histrionic  spirit,  and 
tried  to  make  his  music  reproduce  the  words  not 
only  as  ancilla  theologica  et  ecclesiastica,  but  also 
as  ancilla  dramaturgica.  The  influence  of  Wag- 
ner's operatic  method,  as  it  appears  in  Tann- 
hauser,    Lohengrin,    and     Das    Rheingold,    is 

188 


AS  COMPOSER 

abundantly  evident;  but  the  result  of  this  in- 
fluence is  more  curious  than  convincing.  By  the 
application  of  Wagner's  system  of  Leitmotive  to 
the  text  of  the  mass,  Liszt  succeeded  in  establish- 
ing some  similarity  between  different  movements, 
and  so  approached  uniformity  of  diction.  It 
will  be  seen,  for  example,  that  his  way  of  identi- 
fying the  motive  of  the  Gloria  with  that  of  the 
Resurrexit  and  that  of  the  Hosanna,  or  the  mo- 
tive of  the  Sanctus  and  the  Christie  Eleison  with 
that  of  the  Benedictus,  and  also  his  way  of  re- 
peating the  principal  preceding  motives  in  the 
'Dona  nobis  pacem,'  especially  the  restatement, 
at  its  close,  of  the  powerful  motive  of  the  Credo, 
has  given  to  the  work  a  musical  unity  which  is 
not  always  in  very  clear  accordance  with  the  text. 
"In  the  Hungarian  Coronation  Mass  (Un- 
garische  Kronungsmesse,  1866-7)  Liszt  aimed  at 
characteristic  national  colour,  and  tried  to  at- 
tain it  by  persistently  putting  forward  some  of  the 
melodic  formulae  common  to  music  of  the  Hun- 
garian type  which  occurs  in  the  national  Ra- 
koczy  March  and  in  numberless  popular  tunes 

—  or  an  emphatic  melisma  known  to  everybody 
through  the  famous  Rhapsodies.  From  begin- 
ning to  end  the  popular  Hungarian  element  is 
represented  by  devices  of  this  kind  in  a  manner 
which  is  always  ingenious  and  well  suited  to  the 
requirements  of  a  national  audience. 

"But  the  style  of  the  entire  Mass  is  as  incon- 
gruous as  a  gipsy  musician  in  a  church  vestment 

—  doubly  strange  to  students  of  the  present  day, 

189 


FRANZ  LISZT 

who  in  Liszt's  Rhapsodies  and  Brahms'  Ungar- 
ische  Tanze  have  become  familiar  with  the  rhyth- 
mical and  melodic  phrases  of  the  Hungarian 
gipsy  idiom,  and  who  all  along  have  known  them 
in  their  most  mundane  aspect.  Apart,  however, 
from  its  incongruities  of  style,  the  Offertorium 
is  a  shapely  composition  with  a  distinct  stamp 
of  its  own. 

"  Liszt's  manner  of  writing  for  solo  and  choral 
voices  is  generally  practical  and  effective.  The 
voice-parts  are  carefully  written  so  as  to  lessen 
the  difficulties  of  intonation  which  the  many  far- 
fetched modulations  involve,  and  are  skilfully 
disposed  in  point  of  sonority.  The  orchestration, 
always  efficient,  is  frequently  rich  and  beautiful." 

The  opinion  on  this  work,  expressed  in  the 
Tagehlatt  by  Dr.  Leopold  Schmidt  (who  used  to 
be  an  uncompromising  opponent  of  Liszt),  is  il- 
luminative of  the  present  status  of  the  Liszt  cult: 

"The  Graner  Messe  is  the  older  of  Liszt's  two 
Hungarian  festival  masses,  and  was  composed  in 
1855.  The  dispute  as  to  its  significance  has  lost 
its  point  in  these  days  of  emancipation  from  the 
embarrassments  and  prejudices  of  a  former  gen- 
eration. In  church  music,  as  in  everything  else, 
we  now  allow  every  writer  to  express  his  person- 
ality, and  a  personality  with  the  poetic  qualities 
of  Liszt  wins  our  sympathies  at  the  outset.  .  .  . 
The  dramatic  insistence  on  diverse  details  di- 
minishes the  grandeur  of  the  style;  this  method  is 
out  of  place  here,  and  is  no  adequate  substitute 
for  the  might  of  the  older  form-language.  All 
190 


AS  COMPOSER 

the  other  peculiar  traits  of  Liszt  we  find  here :  the 
pictorial  element,  the  unconsciously  theatrical 
(Wagner's  influence  is  strongly  felt),  and  the  pre- 
ponderating of  the  instrumental  over  the  vocal. 
Nevertheless,  the  Graner  Messe  is  probably 
Liszt's  most  important  and  most  personal  crea- 
tion. The  touching  entreaty  of  the  Kyrie,  the 
beginning  of  the  Gloria  with  its  fabulously  pic- 
torial effect,  the  F-sharp  major  part  of  the  Credo 
are  beauties  of  a  high  order.  The  final  portions 
are  less  inspired,  the  impression  is  weakened;  but 
we  learn  to  love  this  work  for  many  tender  lyric 
passages,  for  the  original  treatment  of  the  text, 
and  the  genuine  piety  which  pervades  and  enno- 
bles it."  This  mass  was  sung  at  the  Worces- 
ter festival  in  1909  under  the  conductorship  of 
Arthur  Mees. 

In  St.  Elisabeth,  which  is  published  as  a  con- 
cert oratorio,  Dannreuther  thinks  that  Liszt 
has  produced  something  like  an  opera  sacra. 
Lina  Ramann  said  that  when  the  work  was  per- 
formed with  scenic  accessories  it  came  as  a  sur- 
prise to  the  composer.  He  took  his  cue  from  the 
order  of  Moritz  v.  Schwindt's  frescoes,  which 
illustrate  the  history  of  Elisabeth  of  Hungary  in 
the  restored  hall  of  the  Wartburg  at  Eisenach 
and  planned  six  scenes  for  which  Otto  Roquette 
furnished  the  verse.  The  scenes  are :  the  arrival 
of  the  child  from  Hungary  —  a  bright  sunny  pic- 
ture; the  rose  miracle  —  a  forest  and  garden 
scene;  the  Crusaders  —  a  picture  of  Medaeival 
pageantry;  Elisabeth's  expulsion  from  the  Wart- 

191 


FRANZ  LISZT 

burg  —  a  stormy  nocturne;  Elisabeth's  death, 
solemn  burial,  and  canonisation.  Five  sections 
belong  to  the  dramatic  presentation  of  the  story. 
The  sixth  and  last,  the  burial  and  canonisation, 
is  an  instrumental  movement  which  serves  as  a 
prologue.  The  leitmotive,  five  in  number,  con- 
sist of  melodies  of  a  popular  type. 

William  J.  Henderson,  who  can  hardly  be  ac- 
cused of  being  a  Lisztianer,  wrote  of  the  St.  Elisa- 
beth —  after  a  performance  some  years  ago  in 
Brooklyn  at  the  Academy  of  Music,  under  the 
conductorship  of  Walter  Hall  —  as  follows : 

"To  the  great  majority  of  the  hearers,  and  to 
most  of  the  performers,  the  work  must  have  been 
a  novelty,  and  had  the  attraction  of  curiosity. 
It  is  an  early  attempt  at  that  dramatic  narration, 
with  an  illusive  *  atmosphere '  supplied  by  the  or- 
chestra, which  has  been  so  extensively  practised 
since  its  composition.  If  Liszt  had  had  the  ad- 
vantage of  his  own  experiment,  and  of  the  sub- 
sequent failures  and  successes  of  other  composers 
in  the  same  attempt,  no  doubt  his  work  would 
have  been  more  uniformly  successful.  As  it  is, 
no  work  which  is  heard  in  New  York  but  once 
in  twenty  years  can  be  called  a  popular  success. 
It  is  true  that  it  is  worth  a  hearing  oftener  than 
that.  True,  also,  that  in  Prague,  with  the  ad- 
vantage of  costumes  and  scenery,  it  had  a  'run' 
of  some  sixty  nights.  There  is  a  strongly  patri- 
otic Magyar  strain  both  in  the  book  and  in  the 
music,  which  would  account  for  popular  success 
in  Hungary,  if  not  in  Bohemia.     But  it  must  be 

192 


AS  COMPOSER 

owned  that  the  orchestral  introduction  is  tedious, 
and  much  of  the  music  of  the  first  part  a  very  dry 
recitative.  In  this  respect,  however,  the  work 
acquires  strength  by  going.  The  Crusaders' 
March,  which  ends  the  first  part,  is  so  effective 
an  orchestral  number  that  it  is  odd  it  should 
never  be  done  in  the  concert  room.  In  the  sec- 
ond part,  much  of  the  music  allotted  to  Elisabeth 
is  melodious  and  pathetic,  the  funeral  scene  and 
the  funeral  march  are  effective  ensemble  writing, 
and  the  last  series  of  choruses,  largely  of  churchly 
'plain  song'  for  the  voices  with  elaborate  or- 
chestral embroidery,  are  impressive  and  even 
majestic." 

In  1834  Liszt  wrote  to  the  Gazette  Musicale  and 
described  his  own  and  Berlioz's  ideal  of  romantic 
religious  music  thus:  "For  want  of  a  better  term 
we  may  well  call  the  new  music  Humanitarian. 
It  must  be  devotional,  strong,  and  drastic,  uniting 
—  on  a  colossal  scale  —  the  theatre  and  the 
church,  dramatic  and  sacred,  superb  and  simple, 
fiery  and  free,  stormy  and  calm,  translucent  and 
emotional."  Berlioz  played  up  to  this  romantic 
programme  even  better  than  Liszt.  Need  we  ad- 
duce the  tremendous  Requiem !  Liszt's  Graner- 
messe  follows  a  close  second. 

Even  if  Liszt's  bias  was  essentially  histrionic 
his  oratorio  Christus  (1863-1873)  is  his  largest 
and  most  sustained  effort  and  the  magnum  opus 
of  his  later  years;  you  may  quite  agree  with 
Dannreuther  that  its  conception  is  Roman  Cath- 
olic, devotional,  and  contemplative  in  a  Roman 

193 


FRANZ  LISZT 

Catholic  sense  both  in  style  and  intended  effect. 
It  contains  nothing  that  is  not  in  some  way  con- 
nected with  the  Catholic  ritual  or  the  Catholic 
spirit;  and,  more  than  any  other  work  of  its  com- 
poser, continues  our  critic,  recognises  and  obeys 
the  restrictions  imposed  by  the  surroundings  of 
the  Church  service.  The  March  of  the  Three 
Kings  was  inspired  by  a  picture  in  the  Cologne 
Cathedral.  The  Beatitudes  and  the  Stabat  Mater 
Dolorosa  contain  pathetic  and  poignant  writing. 
"  Liszt's  Thirteenth  Psalm  is  of  especial  im- 
portance, because  the  epoch-making  ecclesiastical 
music  of  the  great  composer  is  as  yet  so  little 
known  in  America,"  declares  Mr.  Finck.  "  This 
is  the  real  music  of  the  future  for  the  church,  and 
it  is  inspired  as  few  things  are  in  the  whole  range 
of  music.  Liszt  himself  considered  it  one  of  his 
master-works.  In  one  of  his  letters  to  Brendel, 
he  says  that  it  *  is  one  of  those  I  have  worked  out 
most  fully,  and  contains  two  fugue  movements 
and  a  couple  of  passages  which  were  written  with 
tears  of  blood.'  He  had  reason  to  write  with 
tears  of  blood;  he  had  given  to  the  world  a  new 
orchestral  form,  had  found  new  paths  for  sacred 
music,  had  done  more  as  a  missionary  for  his  art 
than  any  other  three  masters,  yet  contemporane- 
ous criticism  was  as  bitter  against  him  as  if  he 
had  been  an  invading  Hun.  To  him  the  Psalm- 
ist's words,  'How  long  shall  they  that  hate  me, 
be  exalted  against  me?'  had  a  meaning  which 
could  indeed  be  recorded  only  in  'tears  of 
blood.'  There  is  a  pathos  in  this  psalm  that  one 
194 


AS  COMPOSER 

would  seek  for  in  vain  in  any  other  sacred  work 
since  Bach's  St.  Matthew's  Passion.  Liszt  him- 
self has  well  described  it  in  the  letter  referred  to 
(vol.  II,  p.  72) :  *  Were  any  one  of  my  more  recent 
works  likely  to  be  performed  at  a  concert  with 
orchestra  and  chorus,  I  would  recommend  this 
psalm.  Its  poetic  subject  welled  up  plenteously 
out  of  my  soul;  and  besides  I  feel  as  if  the  musi- 
cal form  did  not  roam  about  beyond  the  given 
tradition.  It  requires  a  lyrical  tenor;  in  his  song 
he  must  be  able  to  pray,  to  sigh,  and  lament,  to 
become  exalted,  pacified,  and  bibhcally  inspired. 
Orchestra  and  chorus,  too,  have  great  demands 
made  upon  them.  Superficial  or  ordinarily  care- 
ful study  would  not  suffice.'  " 

This  superb  psalm,  performed  at  the  recent 
Birmingham  Musical  Festival,  recalls  to  an  Eng- 
lish critic  an  interesting  comment  of  the  compo- 
ser's in  regard  to  that  particular  work.  When  Sir 
Alexander  Mackenzie  met  Liszt  in  Florence  sev- 
eral years  ago.  Sir  Alexander  said  he  was  glad 
to  tell  him  (Liszt)  that  a  performance  of  his  Thir- 
teenth Psalm  had  been  announced  in  England. 
A  grim  smile  passed  over  the  face  of  the  great 
composer  as  he  replied:  "O  Herr,  wie  lang?" 
("O  Lord,  how  long?"),  the  opening  words  of 
the  psalm. 

Mr.  Richard  Aldrich  writes  of  the  Angelus  as 
follows : 

"  The  little  Angelus  of  Liszt  is  one  of  the  very 
few  pieces  of  chamber  music  that  he  composed 
—  his  genius  was  more  at  home  upon  the  piano- 

195 


FRANZ  LISZT 

forte,  in  the  orchestra  and  in  the  massive  effects 
of  choral  singing.  This  piece  has  the  character 
suggested  in  its  subtitle :  *  Prayer  to  the  Guard- 
ian Angels,'  and  is  an  expression  of  the  deeply 
religious,  mystical  side  of  his  nature  that  led  him 
to  take  holy  orders  in  the  Church  of  Rome.  It 
was  originally  written  for  a  string  quartet,  but 
the  master  added  a  fifth  part  for  contrabass  for 
a  performance  of  it  given  in  London  in  1884  by 
a  large  string  orchestra  under  the  direction  of  his 
pupil,  Walter  Bache.  It  is  given  this  afternoon 
in  this  form.  The  sense  of  yearning,  of  aspira- 
tion and  of  spiritual  elevation  toward  celestial 
things  is  what  the  composer  has  aimed  to  embody 
in  the  music.  After  brief  preluding  on  the  muted 
strings  (without  the  contrabass)  the  first  violins 
take  up  a  sustained  cantabile  that  soon  rises  to 
a  fervent  climax,  fortissimo,  and  breaking  into 
triplets  reaches  the  highest  positions  on  the  first 
violin,  accompanied  by  full  and  vibrant  harmony 
on  the  other  instruments,  as  though  publishing 
feelings  of  the  utmost  exaltation.  There  is  a 
pause  and  the  piece  ends  with  the  quiet  feeling 
in  which  it  began." 

"  A  most  welcome  novelty  is  the  Chorus  of  An- 
gels, composed  by  Liszt  in  1849  for  the  celebra- 
tion of  the  hundredth  birthday  of  Goethe,"  said 
Mr.  Finck.  "  It  is  a  setting  of  some  of  the  most 
mystical  lines  in  Faust,  originally  written  for  mixed 
voices  and  pianoforte,  and  subsequently  arranged 
for  women's  voices  and  harp.  Mr.  Damrosch 
used  Zoellner's  arrangement  for  choir  and  orches- 
196 


AS   COMPOSER 

tra,  and  in  this  version  it  proved  to  be  one  of  the 
most  ethereal  and  fascinating  of  Liszt's  creations. 
"Now  that  Mr.  Damrosch  has  begun  to  ex- 
plore the  stores  of  Liszt's  choral  music  he  will 
doubtless  bring  to  light  many  more  of  these  hid- 
den treasures.  In  doing  so  he  will  simply  follow 
in  the  footsteps  of  his  father,  who  was  one  of 
Liszt's  dearest  friends,  and  who  steadily  preached 
his  gospel  in  New  York.  Of  this  good  work  an 
interesting  illustration  is  given  in  the  eighth  vol- 
ume of  Liszt's  letters,  issued  a  few  weeks  ago  by 
Breitkopf  &  Hartel.  On  December  27,  1876, 
Liszt  wrote  to  Leopold  Damrosch: 

"  'Esteemed  Friend:  A  few  days  ago  I  sent 
you  the  score  of  my  Triomphe  funfebre  du  Tasse. 
This  funeral  ode  came  into  my  mind  on  the  street 
of  Tasso's  Lament  and  Triumph,  in  which  I  of- 
ten walk  on  the  way  to  my  residence  on  the 
Monte  Mario.  The  enclosed  commentary  on  it 
—  based  on  the  Tasso  biography  of  Pier  Antonio 
Serassi  —  I  beg  you  to  print  on  your  concert  pro- 
gramme in  a  good  English  translation. 

"  'I  trust  that  this  work  may  be  received  in 
New  York  with  the  same  favor  that  has  been  ac- 
corded to  some  of  my  other  compositions.  Amid 
the  incessant  European  fault-finding,  the  Ameri- 
can kindness  gives  me  some  consolation.  Once 
more,  I  thank  my  esteemed  friend  Damrosch  for 
his  admirable  interpretations  of  my  works,  and 
remain  his  cordially  devoted 

"  'Franz  Liszt.'  " 

197 


FRANZ  LISZT 


THE  RAKOCZY  MARCH 

When  Prince  Franz  Rakoczy  II  (1676-1735), 
with  his  young  wife,  the  Princess  Amalie  Carohne 
of  Hesse,  made  his  state  entry  into  his  capital  of 
Eperjes,  his  favourite  musician,  the  court  viohn- 
ist  Michael  Barna,  composed  a  march  in  honour 
of  the  illustrious  pair  and  performed  it  with  his 
orchestra.  This  march  had  originally  a  festive 
character,  but  was  revised  by  Barna.  He  had 
heard  that  his  noble  patron,  after  having  made 
peace  with  the  Emperor  Leopold  I  in  1711,  was, 
in  spite  of  the  general  amnesty,  again  planning  a 
national  rising  against  the  Austrian  house.  Barna 
flung  himself  at  the  prince's  feet  and  with  tears 
in  his  eyes,  cried  "  O  gracious  Prince,  you  aban- 
don happiness  to  chase  nothing!"  To  touch  his 
master's  heart  he  took  his  violin  and  played  the 
revised  melody  with  which  he  had  welcomed  the 
prince,  then  happy  and  in  the  zenith  of  his  power. 
Rakoczy  died  in  Turkey,  where  he,  with  some 
faithful  followers,  among  them  the  gipsy  chief 
Barna,  lived  in  exile. 

This  Rakoczy  March,  full  of  passion,  tempera- 
ment, sorrow,  and  pain,  soon  became  popular 
among  the  music  loving  gipsies  as  well  as  among 
the  Hungarian  people.  The  first  copy  of  the 
Rakoczy  March  came  from  Carl  Vaczek,  of  Jas- 
zo,  in  Hungary,  who  died  in  1828,  aged  ninety- 
three.  Vaczek  was  a  prominent  dilettante  in 
music,  who  had  often  appeared  as  flautist  before 
198 


AS  COMPOSER 

the  Vienna  Court,  and  enjoyed  the  reputation  of 
a  great  musical  scholar.  Vaczek  heard  the  Rak- 
oczy  March  from  a  granddaughter  of  Michael 
Barna,  a  gipsy  girl  of  the  name  of  Panna  Czinka, 
who  was  famous  in  her  time  for  her  beauty  and 
her  noble  vioHn  playing  throughout  all  Hungary. 
Vaczek  wrote  down  the  composition  and  handed 
the  manuscript  to  the  violinist  Ruzsitska.  He 
used  the  Rakoczy  Lied  as  the  basis  of  a  greater 
work  by  extending  the  original  melody  by  a 
march  and  a  "battle  music."  All  three  parts 
formed  a  united  whole. 

The  original  melody  composed  by  Michael 
Barna  remained,  however,  the  one  preferred  by 
the  Hungarian  people.  In  the  Berlioz  transcrip- 
tion the  composition  of  Ruzsitska  was  partially 
employed.  Berlioz  worked  together  the  original 
melody;  that  is,  the  Rakoczy  Lied  proper,  and 
the  battle  music  of  Ruzsitska  and  placed  them 
in  his  Damnation  de  Faust. 

The  Rakoczy  March  owes  its  greatest  public- 
ity to  the  above  named  Panna  Czinka.  The  gipsy 
girl's  great  talent  as  a  violonist  was  recognised 
by  her  patron,  Joann  von  Lanyi,  who  had  her 
educated  in  the  Upper  Hungarian  city  of  Ro- 
zsnyo,  where  as  a  pupil  of  a  German  kapellmeis- 
ter she  received  adequate  musical  instruction. 
When  she  was  fifteen  she  married  a  gipsy,  who 
was  favourably  known  as  the  player  of  the  viola 
de  gamba  in  Hungary.  With  her  husband  and 
his  two  brothers,  who  also  were  good  musicians, 
she  travelled  through  all  Hungary  and  attracted 
199 


FRANZ  LISZT 

great  attention,  especially  by  the  Rakoczy  March. 
Later  her  orchestra,  over  which  she  presided  till 
her  death,  consisted  only  of  her  sons.  Her  fa- 
vourite instrument,  a  noble  Amati,  which  had 
been  presented  to  her  by  the  Archbishop  of 
Czaky,  was,  in  compliance  with  her  wishes  ex- 
pressed in  life,  buried  with  her. 

The  Rakoczy  March  has  meanwhile  under- 
gone countless  revisions,  of  which  the  most  im- 
portant is  beyond  doubt  that  of  Berlioz. 

Berlioz  composed  this  march  while  in  Hun- 
gary, and  had  it  performed  there.  Its  first  per- 
formance at  Pesth  led  to  a  scene  of  excitement 
which  is  one  of  the  best-remembered  incidents  in 
Berhoz's  life.  In  consequence  of  its  success, 
Berhoz  was  asked  to  leave  the  original  score  in 
Pesth,  which  he  did;  requesting,  however,  to  be 
furnished  with  a  copy  without  the  Coda,  as  he 
intended  to  rewrite  that  section.  The  new  Coda 
is  the  one  always  played  now,  the  old  one  having 
indeed  disappeared. 

Liszt's  arrangement  of  the  same  march,  it  may 
be  remembered,  led  to  a  debate  in  the  Hungarian 
Diet,  in  which  M.  Tisza  spoke  of  the  march  as 
the  work  of  Franz  Rakoczy  II.  He  was  wrong; 
and  so  was  Berlioz  mistaken  in  saying  that  it  is 
by  an  unknown  composer.  Its  real  author,  ac- 
cording to  a  statement  quoted  by  Liszt's  biogra- 
pher, Miss  Ramann,  was  a  military  band  master 
named  Scholl.  Liszt  had  really  made  his  tran- 
scription in  1840,  but  refrained,  out  of  respect  for 
Berlioz,  from  publishing  it  till  1870. 
200 


VI 

MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CON- 
TEMPORARIES 

VON  LENZ 

The  Russian  councillor  and  the  author  of  the 
well-known  work,  Beethoven  et  Ses  Trois  Styles, 
has  contributed  quite  a  small  library  of  articles 
on  Liszt,  but  as  it  is  impossible  to  quote  all  of 
them,  we  select  the  following,  which  refers  more 
particularly  to  his  own  intimacy  and  first  ac- 
quaintance with  the  great  musician: 

"In  1828  I  had  come  to  Paris,  at  the  age  of 
nineteen,  to  continue  my  studies  there,  and,  more- 
over, as  before,  to  take  lessons  on  the  piano;  now, 
however,  with  Kalkbrenner.  Kalkbrenner  was 
a  man  of  Hebrew  extraction,  bom  in  Berlin;  and 
in  Paris  under  Charles  X  he  was  the  Joconde  of 
the  drawing-room  piano.  Kalkbrenner  was  a 
Knight  of  the  Legion  of  Honour,  and  the  fair 
Camille  Mock,  afterward  Madame  Pleyel,  who 
was  not  indifferent  to  Chopin  or  Liszt,  was  the 
favourite  pupil  of  the  irresistible  Kalkbrenner. 
I  heard  her,  between  Kalkbrenner  and  Onslow, 
play  in  the  sextuor  of  the  last  named  composer 
at  the  house  of  Baron  Tremont,  a  tame  musical 
261 


FRANZ  LISZT 

Maecenas  of  that  day  in  Paris.  She  played  the 
piano  as  a  pretty  Parisian  wears  an  elegant  shoe. 
Nevertheless  I  was  in  danger  of  becoming  Kalk- 
brenner's  pupil,  but  my  stars  and  Liszt  willed  it 
otherwise.  Already  on  the  way  to  Kalkbrenner 
(who  plays  a  note  of  his  now?),  I  came  to  the 
boulevards,  and  read  on  the  theatre  bills  of  the 
day,  which  had  much  attraction  for  me,  the  an- 
nouncement of  an  extra  concert  to  be  given  by 
Liszt  at  the  Conservatoire  (it  was  in  November), 
with  the  piano  concerto  of  Beethoven,  in  E  fiat, 
at  the  head.  At  that  time  Beethoven  was,  and 
not  in  Paris  only,  a  Paracelsus  in  the  concert 
room.  I  only  knew  this  much  of  him,  that  I  had 
been  very  much  afraid  of  the  very  black-looking 
notes  in  his  D-major  trio  and  choral  fantasia, 
which  I  had  once  and  again  looked  over  in  a 
music  shop  of  my  native  town,  Riga,  in  which 
there  was  much  more  done  in  business  than  in 
music. 

"If  any  one  had  told  me  as  I  stood  there  inno- 
cently, and  learned  from  the  factotum  that  there 
were  such  things  as  piano  concertos  by  Bee- 
thoven, that  I  should  ever  write  six  volumes  in 
German  and  two  in  French  on  Beethoven!  I  had 
heard  of  a  septet,  but  the  musician  who  wrote  that 
was  called  J.  N.  Hummel. 

"  From  the  bill  on  the  boulevards  I  concluded, 
however,  that  anyone  who  could  play  a  concerto 
of  Beethoven  in  public  must  be  a  very  wonderful 
fellow,  and  of  quite  a  different  breed  from  Kalk- 
brenner, the  composer  of  the  fantasia,  Effusio 
202 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

Musica.  That  this  Effusio  was  mere  rubbish  I 
already  understood,  young  and  heedless  though 
I  was. 

"  In  this  way,  on  the  then  faithful  boulevards  of 
Paris,  I  met  for  the  first  time  in  my  life  the  name 
of  Liszt,  which  was  to  fill  the  world.  This  bill  of 
the  concert  was  destined  to  exert  an  important  in- 
fluence on  my  life.  I  can  still  see,  after  so  many 
years,  the  colours  of  the  important  paper  — 
thick  monster  letters  on  a  yellow  ground  —  the 
fashionable  colour  at  the  time  in  Paris.  I  went 
straight  to  Schlesinger's,  then  the  musical  ex- 
change of  Paris,  Rue  Richelieu. 

"  'Where  does  Mr.  Liszt  live?'  Tasked,  and 
pronounced  it  Litz,  for  the  Parisians  have  never 
got  any  further  with  the  name  of  Liszt  than  Litz. 

"The  address  of  Liszt  was  Rue  Montholon; 
they  gave  it  me  at  Schlesinger's  without  hesita- 
tion. But  when  I  asked  the  price  of  Litz,  and 
expressed  my  wish  to  take  lessons  from  him,  they 
all  laughed  at  me,  and  the  shopmen  behind  the 
counters  tittered,  and  all  said  at  once,  *  He  never 
gives  a  lesson;  he  is  no  professor  of  the  piano!' 

"I  felt  that  I  must  have  asked  something  very 
foolish.  But  the  answer,  no  professor  of  the  pi- 
ano, pleased  me  nevertheless,  and  I  went  straight- 
way to  the  Rue  Montholon. 

"  Liszt  was  at  home.  That  was  a  great  rarity, 
said  his  mother,  an  excellent  woman  with  a  true 
German  heart,  who  pleased  me  very  much;  her 
Franz  was  almost  always  in  church,  and  no  longer 
occupied  himself  with  music  at  all.  Those  were 
203 


FRANZ  LISZT 

the  days  when  Liszt  wished  to  become  a  Saint- 
Simonist.  It  was  a  great  time,  and  Paris  the 
centre  of  the  world.  There  lived  Rossini  and 
Cherubini,  also  Auber,  Halevy,  Berlioz  and  the 
great  violinist,  Baillot;  the  poet,  Victor  Hugo, 
had  lately  published  his  Orientales,  and  Lamar- 
tine  was  recovering  from  the  exertion  of  his 
Meditations  Poetiques.  Georges  Sand  was  not 
yet  fairly  discovered;  Chopin  not  yet  in  Paris. 
Marie  Taglioni  danced  tragedies  at  the  Grand 
Opera;  Habeneck,  a  German  conductor,  di- 
rected the  picked  orchestra  of  the  Conservatoire, 
where  the  Parisians,  a  year  after  Beethoven's 
death,  for  the  first  time  heard  something  of  him. 
Malibran  and  Sontag  sang  at  the  Italian  Opera 
the  Tournament  duet  in  Tancredi.  It  was  in 
the  winter  of  1828-9  Baillot  played  quartets; 
Rossini  gave  his  Guillaume  Tell  in  the  spring. 

"In  Liszt  I  found  a  thin,  pale-looking  young 
man,  with  infinitively  attractive  features.  He 
was  lounging,  deep  in  thought,  lost  in  himself  on 
a  broad  sofa,  and  smoking  a  long  Turkish  pipe, 
with  three  pianos  standing  around  him.  He  made 
not  the  slightest  movement  on  my  entrance,  but 
rather  appeared  not  to  notice  me  at  all.  When  I 
explained  to  him  that  my  family  had  directed 
me  to  Kalkbrenner,  but  I  came  to  him  because  he 
wished  to  play  a  concerto  by  Beethoven  in  pub- 
lic, he  seemed  to  smile.  But  it  was  only  as  the 
glitter  of  a  dagger  in  the  sun. 

"  'Play  me  something,'  he  said,  with  inde- 
scribable satire,  which,  however,  had  nothing  to 
204 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

wound  in  it,  just  as  no  harm  is  done  by  summer 
lightning. 

"  'I  play  the  sonata  for  the  left  hand  (pour  la 
main  gauche  principale),  by  Kalkbrenner,'  I  said, 
and  thought  I  had  said  something  correct. 

"  'That  I  will  not  hear;  I  don't  know  it,  and 
don't  wish  to,'  he  answered,  with  increased  satire 
and  suppressed  scorn. 

"  I  felt  that  I  was  playing  a  pitiful  part  —  do- 
ing penance,  perhaps,  for  others,  for  Parisians; 
but  I  said  to  myself,  the  more  I  looked  at  this 
young  man,  that  this  Parisian  (for  such  he  seemed 
to  be  by  his  whole  appearance)  must  be  a  genius, 
and  I  would  not  without  further  skirmishes  be 
beaten  off  the  field.  I  went  with  modest  but  firm 
step  to  the  piano  standing  nearest  to  me. 

"  'Not  that  one,'  cried  Liszt,  without  in  the 
least  changing  his  half  reclining  position  on  the 
sofa;  'there,  to  that  other  one.' 

"  I  stepped  to  the  second  piano.  At  that  time 
I  was  absorbed  in  the  '  Auff orderung  zum  Tanz  ' ; 
I  had  married  it  for  love  two  years  before,  and 
we  were  still  in  our  honeymoon.  I  came  from 
Riga,  where,  after  the  unexampled  success  of  the 
'Freischiitz,  we  had  reached  the  piano  composi- 
tions of  Weber,  which  did  not  happen  till  long 
after  in  Paris,  where  the  Freischiitz  was  called 
Robin  des  Bois(!).  I  learnt  from  good  masters. 
When  I  tried  to  play  the  first  three  A-flats  of  the 
Aufforderung,  the  instrument  gave  no  sound. 
What  was  the  matter?  I  played  forcibly,  and 
the  notes  sounded  quite  piano.  I  seemed  to  my- 
205 


FRANZ  LISZT 

self  quite  laughable,  but  without  taking  any  no- 
tice I  went  bravely  on  to  the  first  entry  of  the 
chords;  then  Liszt  rose,  stepped  up  to  me,  took 
my  right  hand  without  more  ado  off  the  instru- 
ment, and  asked: 

"  'What  is  that?    That  begins  well!' 
"  'I  should  think  so,'  I  said;  *  that  is  by  Weber,' 
"  'Has  he  written  for  the  piano,  too?'  he  asked 
with  astonishment.     'We  only  know  here  the 
Robin  des  Bois.' 

"  '  Certainly  he  has  written  for  the  piano,  and 
more  finely  than  any  one!'  was  my  equally  as- 
tonished answer.  'I  have  in  my  trunk,'  I  added, 
'two  polonaises,  two  rondos,  four  sets  of  varia- 
tions, four  solo  sonatas,  one  which  I  learned  with 
Wehrstaedt,  in  Geneva,  which  contains  the  whole 
of  Switzerland,  and  is  incredibly  beautiful;  there 
all  the  fair  women  smile  at  once.  It  is  in  A  flat. 
You  can  have  no  idea  how  beautiful  it  is!  No- 
body has  written  so  for  the  piano,  you  may  be- 
lieve me.' 

"I  spoke  from  my  heart,  and  with  such  con- 
viction that  I  made  a  visible  impression  on  Liszt. 
He  answered  in  a  winning  tone :  '  Now,  pray  bring 
me  all  that  out  of  your  trunk  and  I  will  give  you 
lessons  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  because  you 
have  introduced  me  to  Weber  on  the  piano,  and 
also  were  not  frightened  at  this  heavy  instrument. 
I  ordered  it  on  purpose,  so  as  to  have  played  ten 
scales  when  I  had  played  one.  It  is  an  alto- 
gether impracticable  piano.  It  was  a  sorry  joke 
of  mine.     But  why  did  you  talk  about  Kalk- 

206 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

brenner,  and  a  sonata  by  him  for  the  left  hand  ? 
But  now  play  me  that  thing  of  yours  that  begins 
so  seriously.  There,  that  is  one  of  the  finest 
instruments  in  Paris  —  there,  where  you  were 
going  to  sit  down  first.' 

"  Now  I  played  with  all  my  heart  the  *  Auf- 
forderung,'  but  only  the  melody  marked  wie- 
gend,  in  two  parts.  Liszt  was  charmed  with 
the  composition.  'Now  bring  that,'  he  said; 
*  I  must  have  a  turn  at  that!' 

"At  our  first  lesson  Liszt  could  not  tear  him- 
self away  from  the  piece.  He  repeated  single 
parts  again  and  again,  sought  increased  effects, 
gave  the  second  part  of  the  minor  in  octaves  and 
was  inexhaustible  in  praise  of  Weber.  With 
Weber's  sonata  in  A  flat  Liszt  was  perfectly  de- 
lighted. 1  had  studied  it  in  much  love  with  Wehr- 
staedt  at  Geneva,  and  gave  it  throughout  in  the 
spirit  of  the  thing.  This  Liszt  testified  by  the 
way  in  which  he  listened,  by  lively  gestures  and 
movements,  by  exclamations  about  the  beauty  of 
the  composition,  so  that  we  worked  at  it  with 
both  our  heads!  This  great  romantic  poem  for 
the  piano  begins,  as  is  well  known,  with  a  tre- 
molo of  the  bass  on  A  flat.  Never  had  a  so- 
nata opened  in  such  a  manner!  It  is  as  sunshine 
over  the  enchanted  grove  in  which  the  action 
takes  place.  The  restlessness  of  my  master  be- 
came so  great  over  the  first  part  of  this  allegro 
that  even  before  its  close  he  pushed  me  aside  with 
the  words, 'Wait!  wait!  What  is  that?  I  must 
go  at  that  myself!'  Such  an  experience  one  had 
207 


FRANZ  LISZT 

never  met  with.  Imagine  a  genius  like  Liszt, 
twenty  years  old,  for  the  first  time  in  the  pres- 
ence of  such  a  master  composition  of  Weber,  be- 
fore the  apparition  of  this  knight  in  golden  ar- 
mour! 

"He  tried  his  first  part  over  and  over  again 
with  the  most  various  intentions.  At  the  passage 
in  the  dominant  (E  flat)  at  the  close  of  the  first 
part  (a  passage,  properly  speaking,  the  sonata 
has  not;  one  might  call  it  a  charming  clarinet 
phrase  interwoven  with  the  idea)  Liszt  said,  'It 
is  marked  legato.  Now,  would  not  one  do  it 
better  pp.  and  staccato  ?  Yet  there  is  a  leggiera- 
mente  as  well."  He  experimented  in  all  direc- 
tions. In  this  way  it  was  given  me  to  observe 
how  one  genius  looks  upon  another  and  appreci- 
ates him  for  himself. 

"  'Now  what  is  the  second  part  of  the  first  al- 
legro like?'  asked  Liszt,  and  looked  at  it.  It 
seemed  to  me  simply  impossible  that  any  one 
could  read  at  sight  this  thematic  development, 
with  octaves  piled  one  on  another  for  whole  pages. 

"  'This  is  very  difficult,'  said  Liszt,  'yet  harder 
still  is  the  coda,'  and  the  combining  of  the  whole 
in  this  close,  here  at  this  centrifugal  figure  (thir- 
teenth bar  before  the  end).  The  passage  (in 
the  second  part,  naturally  in  the  original  key  of 
Aflat),  moreover,  we  must  not  play  staccato; 
that  would  be  somewhat  affected;  but  we  must 
also  not  play  it  legato;  it  is  too  thin  for  that. 
We'll  do  it  spiccato;  let  us  swim  between  the 
two  waters.' 

208 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

"If  I  had  wondered  at  the  fire  and  life,  the 
pervading  passion  in  the  delivery  of  the  first  part 
by  Liszt,  I  was  absolutely  astonished  in  the  sec- 
ond part  at  his  triumphant  repose  and  certainty, 
and  the  self-control  with  which  he  reserved  all 
his  force  for  the  last  attack.  '  So  young,  and  so 
wise ! '  I  said  to  myself,  and  was  bewildered,  ab- 
sorbed, discouraged. 

"  In  the  andante  of  the  sonata  I  learned  in  the 
first  four  bars  more  from  Liszt  than  in  years  from 
my  former  good  teachers.  'You  must  give  out 
this  opening  just  as  Baillot  plays  a  quartet;  the 
accompanying  parts  consist  of  the  detached  semi- 
quavers, but  Bailot's  parts  are  very  good,  and 
yours  must  not  be  worse.  You  have  a  good 
hand,  and  can  learn  it.  Try  it,  it  is  not  easy;  one 
might  move  stones  with  it.  I  can  just  imagine 
how  the  hussars  of  the  piano  tear  it  to  pieces! 
I  shall  never  forget  that  it  is  through  you  I  have 
learned  to  know  the  sonata.  Now  you  shall 
learn  something  from  me;  I  will  tell  you  all  I 
know  about  our  instrument.' 

"The  demi-semiquaver  figure  in  the  bass  (at 
the  thirty-fifth  bar  of  this  andante)  is  heard  only 
too  often  given  out  as  a  'passage'  for  the  left 
hand;  the  figure  should  be  delivered  caressingly 
—  it  should  be  an  amorous  violoncello  solo.  In 
this  manner  Liszt  played  it,  but  gave  out  in  fear- 
ful majesty  the  outbursts  of  octaves  on  the  second 
subject  in  C  major,  that  Henselt  calls  the  'Ten 
Commandments '  —  an  excellent  designation. 
And  now,  as  for  menuetto  capriccioso  and  rondo 
209 


FRANZ  LISZT 

of  the  sonata.  How  shall  I  describe  what  Liszt 
made  of  these  genial  movements  on  a  first  ac- 
quaintance? How  he  treated  the  clarinet  solo 
in  the  trio  of  the  menuetto,  and  the  winding  of 
the  rondo?  How  Liszt  glorified  Weber  on  the 
piano;  how  like  an  Alexander  he  marched  in 
triumphant  procession  with  Weber  (especially 
in  the  *  Concertstuck')  through  Europe,  the  world 
knows,  and  future  times  will  speak  of  it" 


BERLIOZ 

In  the  preface  to  Berlioz's  published  Corre- 
spondence, is  the  following  account  of  Liszt's 
evenings  with  the  great  French  composer  and  his 
first  wife: 

"The  first  years  of  their  married  life  were  full 
of  both  hardship  and  charm.  The  new  estab- 
lishment, the  revenues  of  which  amounted,  to  be- 
gin with,  to  a  lump  sum  of  300  francs,  was  mi- 
gratory —  at  one  time  in  the  Rue  Neuve  Saint- 
Marc,  at  another  at  Montmartre,  and  then  in  a 
certain  Rue  Saint-Denis  of  which  it  is  impossible 
now  to  find  trace.  Liszt  lived  in  the  Rue  de 
Province,  and  paid  frequent  visits  to  the  young 
couple;  they  spent  many  evenings  together,  when 
the  great  pianist  would  play  Beethoven's  sonatas 
in  the  dark,  in  order  to  produce  a  greater  im- 
pression. In  his  turn,  Berlioz  took  up  the  cud- 
gels for  his  friend  in  the  newspapers  to  which 
he  was  accustomed  to  contribute  —  the  Corre- 
210 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

spondent,  the  Revue  Europienne  and,  lastly,  the 
Debats.  How  angry  he  became  when  the  vola- 
tile Parisians  attempted  to  espouse  the  cause  of 
Thalberg  against  his  rival!  A  lion  showing  his 
teeth  could  not  have  appeared  more  formidable. 
Death  to  him  who  dared  to  say  Liszt  was  not  the 
first  pianist  of  all  time,  past,  present,  and  to  come ! 
And  when  the  critic  enunciated  any  musical 
axiom  as  being  beyond  discussion,  he  really 
thought  it  so,  for  he  never  went  against  his  own 
convictions,  and  bore  himself  in  regard  to  medi- 
ocrities with  a  contempt  savouring  of  rudeness. 
Liszt  after  all  gave  him  back  measure  for  meas- 
ure, transcribing  the  Symphonie  Fantastique, 
and  playing  at  the  numerous  concerts  which  the 
young  maestro  gave  during  the  winter  with  ever 
increasing  success." 

In  1830,  after  many  repeated  failures  Berlioz 
won  the  much  coveted  "Prix  de  Rome"  at  the 
Paris  Conservatoire,  which  entitled  him  to  re- 
side three  years  in  Italy  at  the  expense  of  the 
French  Government.  Before  he  started  for  the 
musical  land  of  promise,  Berlioz  gave  two  con- 
certs, and  relates  in  his  Memoirs  the  circum- 
stances under  which  he  first  became  acquainted 
with  Liszt: 

"On  the  day  before  the  concert  I  received  a 
visit  from  Liszt,  whom  I  had  never  yet  seen.  I 
spoke  to  him  of  Goethe's  Faust,  which  he  was 
obliged  to  confess  he  had  not  read,  but  about 
which  he  soon  became  as  enthusiastic  as  myself. 
We  were  strongly  attracted  to  one  another,  and 
211 


FRANZ  LISZT 

our  friendship  has  increased  in  warmth  and  depth 
ever  since.  He  was  present  at  the  concert,  and 
excited  general  attention  by  his  applause  and  en- 
thusiasm." 

When  Berlioz  gave  his  first  concert  in  Paris, 
after  his  return  from  Italy,  he  wrote: 

"Weber's  Concertstiick,  played  by  Liszt  with 
the  overpowering  vehemence  which  he  always 
puts  into  it,  obtained  a  splendid  success.  Indeed 
I  so  far  forgot  myself,  in  my  enthusiasm  for  Liszt, 
as  publicly  to  embrace  him  on  the  stage  —  a  stu- 
pid impropriety  which  might  have  covered  us 
both  with  ridicule  had  the  spectators  been  dis- 
posed to  laugh." 

Liszt's  and  Berlioz  intimacy  was  renewed  at 
Prague,  as  will  be  seen  from  the  composer's 
account: 

"I  gave  six  concerts  at  Prague,  either  in  the 
theatre  or  in  Sophie's  concert  room.  At  the  lat- 
ter I  remember  to  have  had  the  delight  of  per- 
forming my  symphony  of  Romeo  and  Juliet  for 
Liszt  for  the  first  time.  Several  movements  of 
the  work  were  already  known  in  Prague.  .  .  . 

"That  day,  having  already  encored  several 
pieces,  the  public  called  for  another,  which  the 
band  implored  me  not  to  repeat;  but  as  the 
shouts  continued  Mr.  Mildner  took  out  his  watch, 
and  held  it  up  to  show  that  the  hour  was  too  far 
advanced  to  allow  of  the  orchestra  remaining 
till  the  end  of  the  concert  if  the  piece  was  played 
a  second  time,  since  there  was  an  opera  at  7 
o'clock.  This  clever  pantomime  saved  us.  At 
212 


MIRRORED  BY  fflS  CONTEMPORARIES 

the  end  of  the  stance,  just  as  I  was  begging  Liszt 
to  serve  as  my  interpreter,  and  thank  the  excel- 
lent singers,  who  had  been  devoting  themselves 
to  the  careful  study  of  my  choruses  for  the  last 
three  weeks  and  had  sung  them  so  bravely,  he 
was  interrupted  by  them  with  an  inverse  pro- 
posal. Having  exchanged  a  few  words  with 
them  in  German,  he  turned  to  me  and  said: 
'My  commission  is  changed;  these  gentlemen 
rather  desire  me  to  thank  you  for  the  pleasure 
you  have  given  them  in  allowing  them  to  per- 
form your  work,  and  to  express  their  delight  at 
your  evident  satisfaction. '  " 

At  a  banquet  in  honour  of  Berlioz  the  com- 
poser says: 

"  Liszt  was  unanimously  chosen  to  make  the 
presentation  speech  instead  of  the  chairman,  who 
had  not  sufl&cient  acquaintance  with  the  French 
language.  At  the  first  toast  he  made  me,  in  the 
name  of  the  assembly,  an  address  at  least  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  long,  with  a  warmth  of  spirit, 
an  abundance  of  ideas  and  a  choice  of  expres- 
sions, which  excited  the  envy  of  the  orators  pres- 
ent, and  by  which  I  was  profoundly  touched. 
Unhappily,  if  he  spoke  well,  he  also  drank  well 
—  the  treacherous  cup  inaugurated  by  the  con- 
vives held  such  floods  of  champagne  that  all 
Liszt's  eloquence  made  shipwreck  in  it.  Belloni 
and  I  were  still  in  the  streets  of  Prague  at  2 
o'clock  in  the  morning  persuading  him  to  wait 
for  daylight  before  exchanging  shots  at  two  paces 
with  a  Bohemian  who  had  drunk  better  than  him- 
213 


FRANZ  LISZT 

self.  When  day  came  we  were  not  without  anxi- 
ety about  Liszt,  whose  concert  was  to  take  place 
at  noon.  At  half-past  eleven  he  was  still  sleeping; 
at  last  some  one  awoke  him;  he  jumped  into  a 
cab,  reached  the  hall,  was  received  with  three 
rounds  of  applause  and  played  as  I  believe  he  has 
never  played  in  his  life  before." 

Berlioz,  in  his  A  Travers  Chants,  relates  the 
following  incident: 

''  One  day  Listz  was  playing  the  adagio  of 
Beethoven's  sonata  in  C-sharp  minor  before  a  lit- 
tle circle  of  friends,  of  which  I  formed  part,  and 
followed  the  manner  he  had  then  adopted  to  gain 
the  applause  of  the  fashionable  world.  Instead 
of  those  long  sustained  notes,  and  instead  of  strict 
uniformity  of  rhythm,  he  overlaid  it  with  trills 
and  the  tremolo.  I  suffered  cruelly,  I  must  con- 
fess —  more  than  I  have  ever  suffered  in  hearing 
our  wretched  cantatrices  embroider  the  grand 
air  in  the  '  Freischutz ' ;  for  to  this  torture  was 
added  my  distress  at  seeing  an  artist  of  his  stamp 
falling  into  the  snare  which,  as  a  rule,  only  besets 
mediocrities.  But  what  was  to  be  done?  Liszt 
was  then  like  a  child,  who  when  he  stumbles,  likes 
to  have  no  notice  taken,  but  picks  himself  up 
without  a  word  and  cries  if  anybody  holds  him 
out  a  hand.  He  had  picked  himself  up  splen- 
didly. A  few  years  afterward  one  of  those  men  of 
heart  and  soul  that  artists  are  always  happy  to 
come  across  (Mr.  Legouve),  had  invited  a  small 
party  of  friends  —  I  was  one  of  them. 

"Liszt  came  during  the  evening,  and  finding 
214 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

the  conversation  engaged  on  the  valuable  piece 
by  Weber,  and  why  when  he  played  it  at  a  recent 
concert  he  had  received  a  rather  sorry  reception, 
he  went  to  the  piano  to  reply  in  this  manner  to 
Weber's  antagonists.  The  argument  was  unan- 
swerable, and  we  were  obliged  to  acknowledge  that 
a  work  of  genius  was  misunderstood.  As  he 
/  was  about  to  finish,  the  lamp  which  lighted  the 
apartment  appeared  very  soon  to  go  out;  one  of 
us  was  going  to  relight  it:  'Leave  it  alone,'  I  said 
to  him;  *if  he  will  play  the  adagio  of  Beethoven's 
sonata  in  C-sharp  minor  this  twilight  will  not 
spoil  it.' 

"'Willingly,*  said  Liszt;  'but  put  the  lights 
out  altogether;  cover  the  fire  that  the  obscurity 
may  be  more  complete.'  Then,  in  the  midst  of 
darkness,  after  a  moment's  pause,  rose  in  its 
sublime  simplicity  the  noble  elegy  he  had  once  so 
strangely  disfigured;  not  a  note,  not  an  accent  was 
added  to  the  notes  and  the  accents  of  the  author. 
It  was  the  shade  of  Beethoven,  conjured  up  by  the 
virtuoso  to  whose  voice  we  were  listening.  We 
all  trembled  in  silence,  and  when  the  last  chord 
had  sounded  no  one  spoke  —  we  were  in  tears." 

Berlioz  in  a  letter  to  Liszt  wrote  as  follows  to 
the  pianist  on  his  playing: 

"  On  my  return  from  Heckingen  I  stayed  some 
days  longer  at  Stuttgart,  a  prey  to  new  perplexi- 
ties. You,  my  dear  Liszt,  know  nothing  of  these 
uncertainties;  it  matters  little  to  you  whether  the 
town  to  which  you  go  has  a  good  orchestra,  whether 
the  theatre  be  open  or  the  manager  place  it  at 

215 


FRANZ  LISZT 

your  disposal,  etc.  Of  what  use  indeed  would 
such  information  be  to  you  ?  With  a  slight  mod- 
ification of  the  famous  mot  of  Louis  XIV  you 
may  say  with  confidence,  I  myself  am  orchestra, 
chorus,  and  conductor.  I  make  my  piano  dream 
or  sing  at  pleasure,  re-echo  with  exulting  har- 
monies and  rival  the  most  skilful  bow  in  swift- 
ness. Neither  theatre,  nor  long  rehearsals,  for 
I  want  neither  musicians  nor  music. 

"  Give  me  a  large  room  and  a  grand  piano,  and 
I  am  at  once  master  of  a  great  audience.  I  have 
but  to  appear  before  it  to  be  overwhelmed  with 
applause.  My  memory  awakens,  my  fingers 
give  birth  to  dazzling  fantasias,  which  call  forth 
enthusiastic  acclamations.  I  have  but  to  play 
Schubert's  Ave  Maria  or  Beethoven's  Adelaide 
to  draw  every  heart  to  myself,  and  make  each 
one  hold  his  breath.  The  silence  speaks;  ad- 
miration is  intense  and  profound.  Then  come 
the  fiery  shells,  a  veritable  bouquet  of  grand  fire- 
works, the  acclamations  of  the  public,  flowers 
and  wreaths  showered  upon  the  priest  of  harmony 
as  he  sits  quivering  on  his  tripod,  beautiful  young 
women  kissing  the  hem  of  his  garment  with  tears 
of  sacred  frenzy;  the  sincere  homage  of  the  seri- 
ous, the  feverish  applause  forced  from  the  en- 
vious, the  intent  faces,  the  narrow  hearts  amazed 
at  their  own  expansiveness.  And  perhaps  next 
day  the  inspired  young  genius  departs,  leaving 
behind  him  a  trail  of  dazzling  glory  and  enthu- 
siasm. It  is  a  dream !  It  is  one  of  those  golden 
dreams  inspired  by  the  name  of  Liszt  or  Paga- 
216 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

nini.  But  the  composer  who,  like  myself,  must 
travel  to  make  his  work  known,  has,  on  the  con- 
trary, to  nerve  himself  to  a  task  which  is  never 
ending,  still  beginning,  and  always  unpleasant." 

The  well-known  dramatist.  Scribe,  once  wrote 
a  libretto  for  Berlioz,  but  in  consequence  of  some 
diflSculty  with  the  director  of  the  Paris  Grand 
Opera  he  demanded  the  return  of  the  work,  and 
handed  it  over  to  Gounod,  who  subsequently  wrote 
the  music.  Berlioz  devotes  some  space  to  these 
proceedings  in  his  Memoirs,  and  in  the  course  of 
his  remarks  says: 

"When  I  saw  Scribe,  on  my  return  to  Paris,  he 
seemed  slightly  confused  at  having  accepted  my 
offer,  and  taken  back  my  poem.  'But,  as  you 
know,'  said  he,  *I1  faut  que  le  pretre  vive  de 
I'autel.'  Poor  fellow!  he  could  not,  in  fact,  have 
waited;  he  has  only  some  200,000  or  300,000  per 
annum,  a  house  in  town,  three  coimtry  houses 
etc.  Liszt  made  a  capital  pun  when  I  repeated 
Scribe's  speech  to  him.  'Yes,'  said  he,  'by  his 
hotel'  —  comparing  Scribe  to  an  innkeeper." 

D'ORTIGUE 

D'Ortigue,  who  is  better  known  as  a  theorist 
than  a  composer  and  musical  critic,  was  a  great 
admirer  of  Liszt,  as  may  be  seen  by  the  follow- 
ing extract  from  his  writings: 

"  Beethoven  is  for  Liszt  a  god,  before  whom  he 
bows  his  head.  He  considered  him  as  a  deliverer 
whose  arrival  in  the  musical  realm  has  been  il- 
217 


FRANZ  LISZT 

lustrated  through  the  liberty  of  poetical  thought, 
and  through  the  abolishing  of  old  dominating  hab- 
its. Oh,  one  must  be  present  when  he  begins 
with  one  of  those  melodies,  one  of  those  posies 
which  have  long  been  called  symphonies!  One 
must  see  his  eyes  when  he  opens  them  as  if  re- 
ceiving an  inspiration  from  above,  and  when  he 
fixes  them  gloomily  on  the  groimd.  One  must 
see  him,  hear  him,  and  be  silent. 

"We  feel  here  only  too  well  how  weak  is  the 
expression  of  our  imagination.  He  conquers  ev- 
erything but  his  nerves  ;  his  head,  hands  and 
whole  body  are  in  violent  motion;  in  one  word, 
you  see  a  dreadfully  nervous  man  agitatedly 
playing  his  piano!" 

BLAZE  DE  BURY 

Baron  Blaze  de  Bury,  in  a  musical  feuilleton 
contributed  to  the  Revue  des  Deux  Mondes,  no 
doubt  more  in  fun  than  ill  feeling,  wrote  as  fol- 
lows on  Liszt  and  his  Hungarian  sword: 

"  We  must  have  dancers,  songstresses,  and  pi- 
anists. We  have  enthusiasm  and  gold  for  their 
tour  de  force.  We  abandon  Petrarch  in  the 
streets  to  bring  Essler  to  the  Capitol;  we  suffer 
Beethoven  and  Weber  to  die  of  hunger,  to  give 
a  sword  of  honor  to  Mr.  Liszt." 

Liszt  was  furious  when  this  met  his  eye,  and 
wrote  immediately  a  long  letter  to  the  editor  of 
the  Revue,  of  which  the  following  is  the  essential 
passage: 

218 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

"The  sword  which  has  been  given  to  me  at 
Pesth  is  a  reward  awarded  by  a  nation  under  a 
national  form.  In  Hungary  —  in  this  country  of 
ancient  and  chivalrous  manners  —  the  sword  has 
a  patriotic  significance.  It  is  the  sign  of  man- 
hood par  excellence;  it  is  the  arm  of  all  men  who 
have  the  right  to  carry  arms.  While  six  out  of 
the  most  remarkable  men  of  my  country  pre- 
sented it  to  me,  with  the  unanimous  acclamations 
of  my  compatriots,  it  was  to  acknowledge  me 
again  as  a  Hungarian  after  an  absence  of  fifteen 
years." 

OSCAR  COMMETTANT 

Oscar  Commettant,  in  one  of  his  works,  gives 
the  following  satirical  sketch  of  Liszt  in  the 
height  of  his  popularity  in  the  Parisian  concert 
ooms: 

"  A  certain  great  pianist,  who  is  as  clever  a  man- 
ager as  he  is  an  admirable  executant,  pays  women 
at  a  rate  of  25  frs.  per  concert  to  pretend  to  faint 
away  with  pleasure  in  the  middle  of  a  fantasia 
taken  at  such  a  rapid  pace  that  it  would  have  been 
humanly  impossible  to  finish  it.  The  pianist 
abruptly  left  his  instrument  to  rush  to  the  assis- 
tance of  the  poor  fainting  lady,  while  everybody 
in  the  room  believed  that,  but  for  that  accident, 
the  prodigious  pianist  would  have  completed  the 
greatest  of  miracles.  It  happened  one  night  that 
a  woman  paid  to  faint  forgot  her  cue  and  fell  fast 
asleep.  The  pianist  was  performing  Weber's 
Concertstiick.  Reckoning  on  the  fainting  of  this 
219 


FRANZ  LISZT 

female  to  interrupt  the  finale  of  the  piece,  he  took 
it  in  an  impossible  time.  What  could  he  do  in 
such  a  perplexing  cause  ?  Stumble  and  trip  like 
a  vulgar  pianist,  or  pretend  to  be  stopped  by  a  de- 
fective memory?  No;  he  simply  played  the  part 
which  the  faintress  (excuse  the  word)  ought  to 
have  acted,  and  fainted  away  himself.  People 
crowded  around  the  pianist,  who  had  become 
doubly  phenomenal  through  his  electric  execu- 
tion, and  his  frail  and  susceptible  organization. 
They  carried  him  out  into  the  greenroom.  The 
men  applauded  as  if  they  meant  to  bring  down 
the  ceiling;  the  women  waved  their  handker- 
chiefs to  manifest  their  enthusiasm,  and  the 
faintress,  on  waking,  fainted,  perhaps  really,  with 
despair  of  not  having  pretended  to  faint." 

LEON  ESCUDIER 

The  once  celebrated  musical  publisher  and 
director  of  the  Parisian  Italian  Opera  season 
gives  the  following  description  of  Danton's  statu- 
ette of  Liszt,  which  was  exhibited  in  the  Paris 
salon  half  a  century  ago: 

"The  pianist  is  seated  before  a  piano,  which  he 
is  about  to  destroy  under  him.  His  fingers  mul- 
tiply at  the  ends  of  his  hands;  I  should  think  so 
—  Danton  made  him  ten  at  each  hand.  His  hair 
like  a  willow  floats  over  his  shoulders.  One 
would  say  that  he  is  whistling.  Now  for  the  ac- 
count. Liszt  saw  the  statue,  and  made  a  gri- 
mace. He  found  that  the  sculptor  had  exag- 
220 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

gerated  the  length  of  his  hair.  It  was  a  criticism 
really  pulled  by  the  hair.     Danton  knew  it. 

"But  after  Liszt  had  gone  he  went  again  to  work 
and  made  immediately  a  second  statuette.  In 
this,  one  only  sees  a  head  of  hair  (the  pianist  is 
seen  from  the  back)  always  seated  before  the  pi- 
ano. The  head  of  hair,  which  makes  one  think 
of  a  man  hidden  behind,  plays  the  piano  abso- 
lutely like  the  first  model.   All  the  rest  is  the  same. " 

Leon  Escudier  also  relates  an  incident  at  one 
of  Henri  Herz's  concerts: 

"A  piece  for  four  pianos  was  to  be  played. 
Herz  knew  how  to  choose  his  competitors.  The 
three  other  pianists  were  Thalberg,  Liszt,  and 
Moscheles.  The  room  was  crowded,  as  may  be 
imagined.  The  audience  was  calm  at  first;  but 
not  without  slight  manifestations  of  impatience 
quite  natural  under  the  circumstances.  They 
did  not  consider  the  regrettable  habit  that  Liszt 
had,  at  this  epoch,  to  make  people  wait  for  him. 
Punctuality,  however,  is  the  politeness  of  kings, 
and  Liszt  was  a  king  of  the  piano.  Briefly,  the 
pianists  gave  up  waiting  for  Liszt;  but  this  reso- 
lution was  not  taken  without  a  little  confusion 
in  the  artists'  room.  The  musical  parts  were 
changed  at  the  piano,  and  they  were  going  to  play 
a  trio  instead  of  a  quatour,  when  Liszt  appeared. 
It  was  time!  They  were  about  to  commence 
without  him.  While  the  four  virtuosi  seated 
themselves  they  perceived  that  the  musical  parts 
were  not  the  same  which  belonged  to  them.  In 
the  confusion  which  preceded  their  installation 

221 


FRANZ  LISZT 

the  parts  got  mixed,  and  No.  i  had  before  his 
eyes  the  part  of  No.  3;  the  No.  2  had  No.  i,  and 
so  on.  What  was  to  be  done  ?  —  rise  and  re- 
arrange the  parts!  The  public  was  already  dis- 
appointed by  the  prolonged  waiting  that  they  had 
experienced.  They  murmured.  The  four  vir- 
tuosi looked  at  each  other  sternly,  not  daring  to 
rise,  when  Herz  took  a  heroic  resolution,  exclaim- 
ing: 'Courage!  Allons  toujours!'  And  he  gave 
the  signal  in  passing  his  fingers  over  the  keyboard. 
The  others  played,  and  the  four  great  pianists 
improvised  each  the  part  of  the  other.  The  pub- 
lic did  not  notice  the  change,  and  finished  by  ap- 
plauding loudly." 

MOSENTHAL 

Anton  Rubinstein's  librettist,  in  some  remi- 
niscences of  his  collaborateur  says: 

"It  must  have  been  in  1840  that  I  saw  Rubin- 
stein for  the  first  time,  when  scarcely  ten  years 
old;  he  had  travelled  in  Paris  with  his  teacher, 
and  plucked  his  first  laurels  with  his  childish 
hands.  It  was  then  that  Franz  Liszt,  hearing 
the  boy  play,  and  becoming  acquainted  with  his 
first  compositions,  with  noble  enthusiasm  pro- 
claimed him  the  sole  inheritor  of  his  fame.  The 
prediction  has  been  fulfilled;  already  in  the  ful- 
ness of  his  activity,  Liszt  recognised  in  Rubin- 
stein a  rival  on  equal  footing  with  himself,  and 
since  he  has  ceased  to  appear  before  the  public 
he  has  greeted  Rubinstein  as  the  sole  ruler  in 
222 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

the  realm  of  pianists.  When  Rubinstein  was 
director  of  the  Musical  Society  in  Vienna,  1876, 
and  the  dlite  of  the  friends  of  art  gathered  every 
week  in  his  hospitable  house,  I  once  had  the 
rare  pleasure  of  hearing  him  and  Liszt  play,  not 
only  successively  during  the  same  evening,  but 
also  together  on  the  piano.  The  question,  which 
of  the  two  surpassed  the  other,  recalled  the  old 
problem  whether  Goethe  or  Schiller  is  the  great- 
est German  poet.  But  when  they  both  sat  down 
to  play  a  new  concerto  by  Rubinstein,  which 
Liszt,  with  incredible  intuition,  read  at  sight,  it 
was  really  as  good  as  a  play  to  watch  the  gray- 
haired  master,  as,  smiling  good-naturedly,  he 
followed  his  young  artist,  and  allowed  himself, 
as  if  on  purpose,  to  be  surpassed  in  fervor  and 
enthusiastic  powers." 

MOSCHELES 

There  are  several  allusions  to  Liszt  in  Mos- 
cheles'  Diary.  Liszt  visited  London  in  1840, 
and  Moscheles  records: 

"At  one  of  the  Philharmonic  Concerts  he 
played  three  of  my  studies  quite  admirably. 
Faultless  in  the  way  of  execution,  by  his  talent 
he  has  completely  metamorphosed  these  pieces; 
they  have  become  more  his  studies  than  mine. 
With  all  that  they  please  me,  and  I  shouldn't  like 
to  hear  them  played  in  any  other  way  by  him. 
The  Paganini  studies  too  were  uncommonly  in- 
teresting to  me.  He  does  anything  he  chooses, 
223 


FRANZ  LISZT 

and  does  it  admirably;  and  those  hands  raised 
aloft  in  the  air  come  down  but  seldom,  wonder- 
fully seldom,  upon  a  wrong  note.  'His  conver- 
sation is  always  brilliant,'  adds  Mrs.  Moscheles. 
'It  is  occasionally  dashed  with  satire  or  spiced 
with  humour.  The  other  day  he  brought  me 
his  portrait,  with  his  hommages  respectueux  writ- 
ten underneath;  and  what  was  the  best  "hom- 
mage"  of  all  he  sat  down  to  the  piano,  and  played 
me  the  Erl  King,  the  Ave  Maria  and  a  charming 
Hungarian  piece.'" 

Liszt  was  again  in  London  in  1841,  and  Mos- 
cheles records  that  at  the  Philharmonic  Society's 
concert,  on  July  14: 

"The  attention  of  the  audience  was  entirely 
centred  upon  Liszt.  When  he  came  forward  to 
play  in  Hummel's  septet  one  was  prepared  to  be 
staggered,  but  only  heard  the  well-known  piece 
which  he  plays  with  the  most  perfect  execution, 
storming  occasionally  like  a  Titan,  but  still  in 
the  main  free  from  extravagance;  for  the  distin- 
guishing mark  of  Liszt's  mind  and  genius  is  that 
he  knows  perfectly  the  capability  of  the  audience 
and  the  style  of  music  he  brings  before  them,  and 
uses  his  powers,  which  are  equal  to  everything, 
merely  as  a  means  of  eliciting  the  most  varied 
kinds  of  effects." 

Mrs.  Moscheles,  in  some  supplementary  notes 
to  her  husband's  Diary,  says: 

"Liszt  and  Moscheles  were  heard  several  times 
together  in  the  Preciosa  variations,  on  which 
Moscheles  remarks:  'It  seemed  to  me  that  we 
224 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

were  sitting  together  on  Pegasus.'  When  Mos- 
cheles  showed  him  his  F-sharp  and  D-minor 
studies,  which  he  had  written  for  Michetti's 
Beethoven  Album,  Liszt,  in  spite  of  their  intrica- 
cies and  difficulties,  played  them  admirably  at 
sight.  He  was  a  constant  visitor  at  Moscheles' 
house,  often  dropping  in  unexpectedly;  and  many 
an  evening  was  spent  under  the  double  fascina- 
tion of  his  splendid  playing  and  brilliant  conver- 
sation. The  other  day  he  told  us :  *  I  have  played 
a  duet  with  Cramer;  I  was  the  poisoned  mush- 
room, and  I  had  at  my  side  my  antidote  of  milk.'  " 

Moscheles  attended  the  Beethoven  Festival  at 
Bonn,  in  1845,  and  on  August  10  recorded  in  his 
Diary: 

"I  am  at  the  H6tel  de  I'Etoile  d'Or,  where  are 
to  be  found  all  the  crowned  heads  of  music  — 
brown,  gray  or  bald.  This  is  a  rendezvous  for 
all  ladies,  old  and  young,  fanatics  for  music,  all 
art  judges,  German  and  French  reviewers  and 
English  reporters;  lastly,  the  abode  of  Liszt,  the 
absolute  monarch,  by  virtue  of  his  princely  gifts, 
outshining  all  else.  ...  I  have  already  seen  and 
spoken  to  colleagues  from  all  the  four  quarters 
of  the  globe;  I  was  also  with  Liszt,  who  had  his 
hands  full  of  business,  and  was  surrounded  with 
secretaries  and  masters  of  ceremonies,  while  Chor- 
ley  sat  quietly  ensconced  in  the  comer  of  a  sofa. 
Liszt  too  kissed  me;  then  a  few  hurried  and  con- 
fused words  passed  between  us,  and  I  did  not  see 
him  again  until  I  met  him  afterwards  in  the  con- 
cert room." 

22$ 


FRANZ  LISZT 

On  August  12,  Moscheles  records: 

"  I  was  deeply  moved  when  I  saw  the  statue  of 
Beethoven  unveiled,  the  more  so  because  Hah- 
nel  has  obtained  an  admirable  likeness  of  the  im- 
mortal composer.  Another  tumult  and  uproar 
at  the  table  d'hote  in  the  'Stern'  Hotel.  I  sat 
near  Bachez,  Fischof  and  Vesque,  Liszt  in  all 
his  glory,  a  suite  of  ladies  and  gentlemen  in  at- 
tendance on  him,  Lola  Montez  among  the  for- 
mer." 

At  the  banquet  after  the  unveiling  of  Beetho- 
ven's statue  at  Bonn,  Moscheles  records: 

"Immediately  after  the  king's  health  had  been 
proposed,  Wolff,  the  improvisatore,  gave  a  toast 
which  he  called  the  'Trefoil.'  It  was  to  repre- 
sent the  perfect  chord  —  Spohr  the  key-note, 
Liszt  the  connecting  link  between  all  parties,  the 
third,  Professor  Breidenstein,  the  dominant 
leading  all  things  to  a  happy  solution.  (Uni- 
versal applause.)  Spohr  proposes  the  health  of 
the  Queen  of  England,  Dr.  Wolff  that  of  Pro- 
fessor Hahnel,  the  sculptor  of  the  monument,  and 
also  that  of  the  brass  founder.  Liszt  proposes 
Prince  Albert;  a  professor  with  a  stentorian  voice 
is  laughed  and  coughed  down  —  people  will  not 
listen  to  him;  and  then  ensued  a  series  of  most 
disgraceful  scenes  which  originated  thus:  Liszt 
spoke  rather  abstrusely  upon  the  subject  of  the 
festival.  '  Here  all  nations  are  met  to  pay  honour 
to  the  master.  May  they  live  and  prosper  — 
the  Dutch,  the  English,  the  Viennese  —  who  have 
made  a  pilgrimage  hither!'  Upon  this  Chelard 
226 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

gets  up  in  a  passion,  and  screams  out  to  Liszt, 
*  Vous  avez  oubli6  les  Franf ais. ' 

"Many  voices  break  in,  a  regular  tumult  en- 
sues, some  for,  some  against  the  speaker.  At 
last  Liszt  makes  himself  heard,  but  in  trying  to 
exculpate  himself  seems  to  get  entangled  deeper 
and  deeper  in  a  labyrinth  of  words,  seeking  to 
convince  his  hearers  that  he  had  lived  fifteen 
years  among  Frenchmen,  and  would  certainly 
not  intentionally  speak  slightingly  of  them.  The 
contending  parties,  however,  become  more  up- 
roarious, many  leave  their  seats,  the  din  becomes 
deafening  and  the  ladies  pale  with  fright.  The  fete 
is  interrupted  for  a  full  hour.  Dr.  Wolff,  mount- 
ing a  table,  tries  to  speak,  but  is  hooted  down 
three  or  four  times,  and  at  last  quits  the  room, 
glad  to  escape  the  babel  of  tongues.  Knots  of 
people  are  seen  disputing  in  every  part  of  the  great 
salon,  and,  the  confusion  increasing,  the  cause 
of  dispute  is  lost  sight  of.  The  French  and  Eng- 
lish journalists  mingle  in  this  fray,  by  complain- 
ing of  omissions  of  all  sorts  on  the  part  of  the 
festival  committee.  When  the  tumult  threatens 
to  become  serious  the  landlord  hits  upon  the 
bright  idea  of  making  the  band  play  its  loudest, 
and  this  drowns  the  noise  of  the  brawlers,  who 
adjourned  to  the  open  air. 

"The  waiters  once  more  resumed  their  ser- 
vices, although  many  of  the  guests,  especially 
ladies,  had  vanished.  The  contending  groups  out- 
side showed  their  bad  taste  and  ridiculous  selfish- 
ness, for  Vivier  and  some  Frenchmen  got  Liszt 
227 


FRANZ  LISZT 

among  them,  and  reproached  him  in  a  most 
shameful  way.  G.  ran  from  party  to  party,  add- 
ing fuel  to  the  fire;  Chorley  was  attacked  by  a 
French  journalist;  M.  J.  J.  (Jules  Janin)  would 
have  it  that  the  English  gentleman,  Wentworth 
Dilke,  was  a  German  who  had  slighted  him;  I 
stepped  in  between  the  two,  so  as  at  least  to  put 
an  end  to  this  unfair  controversy.  I  tried  as  well 
as  I  could  to  soothe  these  overwrought  minds, 
and  pronounced  funeral  orations  over  those  who 
had  perished  in  this  tempest  of  words.  I  alone 
remained  shot  proof  and  neutral,  so  also  did  my 
Viennese  friends.  By  6  o'clock  in  the  evening 
I  became  almost  deaf  from  the  noise,  and  was 
glad  to  escape." 

DWIGHT 

John  S.  Dwight,  the  Boston  musical  critic,  in  an 
article  on  Dr.  von  Biilow,  written  while  travelling 
in  Germany  with  a  friend,  relates  the  following 
interview  with  Liszt: 

"It  was  in  Berlin,  in  the  winter  of  1861,  that 
we  had  the  privilege  of  meeting  and  hearing 
Billow.  We  were  enjoying  our  first  and  only 
interview  with  Liszt,  who  had  come  for  a  day  or 
two  to  the  old  Hotel  de  Brandebourg,  where  we 
were  living  that  winter.  On  the  sofa  sat  his 
daughter,  Mrs.  von  Bulow,  bearing  his  unmis- 
takable impress  upon  her  features;  the  welcome 
was  cordial,  and  the  conversation  on  the  part  of 
both  of  them  was  lively  and  most  interesting; 
228 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

chiefly  of  course  it  was  about  music,  artists,  etc., 
and  nothing  delighted  us  more  than  the  hearty- 
appreciation  which  Liszt  expressed  of  Robert 
Franz,  then,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  but  very  lit- 
tle recognised  in  Germany.  Of  some  other  com- 
posers he  seemed  inclined  to  speak  ironically 
and  even  bitterly,  as  if  smarting  under  some  dis- 
appointment —  perhaps  at  the  unreceptive  mood 
of  the  Berliners  toward  his  own  symphonic 
poems,  to  whose  glories  Biilow  had  been  labour- 
ing to  convert  them. 

"Before  we  had  a  chance  to  hint  of  one  hope 
long  deferred,  that  of  hearing  Liszt  play,  he 
asked,  'Have  you  heard  Biilow?'  alluding  to 
him  more  than  once  as  the  pianist  to  be  heard  — 
his  representative  and  heir,  on  whom  his  mantle 
had  verily  fallen.  Thinking  it  possible  that  there 
was  some  new  grand  composition  by  some  one  of 
his  young  disciples  to  be  brought  out,  and  that 
he  had  come  to  Berlin  to  stand  godfather,  as  it 
were,  to  that,  we  modestly  ventured  to  inquire. 
He  smilingly  replied,  'No;  I  am  here  literally  as 
godfather,  having  come  to  the  christening  of  my 
grandchild.'  Presently  the  conversation  was  in- 
terrupted by  a  rap  at  the  door,  and  in  came  with 
lively  step  a  little  man,  who  threw  open  the  furs 
in  which  he  was  buried,  Berlin  fashion,  and  ap- 
proached the  presence,  bowed  his  head  to  the 
paternal  laying  on  of  hands,  and  we  were  in- 
troduced to  Von  Biilow." 


229 


FRANZ  LISZT 


HANS  CHRISTIAN  ANDERSEN 

The  author  of  the  charming  fairy  tales,  which 
are  still  admired  by  young  as  well  as  old  people, 
in  his  usual  graceful  style,  gives  a  description  of 
a  Liszt  concert  in  1840: 

"In  Hamburg,  at  the  City  of  London  Hotel, 
Liszt  gave  a  concert.  In  a  few  minutes  the  hall 
was  crowded.  I  came  too  late,  but  I  got  the  best 
place  —  close  upon  the  orchestra,  where  the 
piano  stood  —  for  I  was  brought  up  by  a  back 
staircase.  Liszt  is  one  of  the  kings  in  the  realm 
of  music.  My  guide  brought  me  to  him,  as  I 
have  said,  up  a  back  stair,  and  I  am  not  ashamed 
to  acknowledge  this.  The  hall  —  even  the  side 
rooms  —  beamed  with  lights,  gold  chains  and 
diamonds.  Near  me,  on  a  sofa,  reclined  a  young 
Jewess,  stout  and  overdressed.  She  looked  like 
a  walrus  with  a  fan.  Grave  Hamburg  merchants 
stood  crowded  together,  as  if  they  had  important 
business '  on  'Change '  to  transact.  A  smile  rested 
on  their  lips,  as  though  they  had  just  sold  'paper' 
and  won  enormously.  The  Orpheus  of  mythol- 
ogy could  move  stones  and  trees  by  his  playing. 
The  new  Liszt-Orpheus  had  actually  electrified 
them  before  he  played.  Celebrity,  with  its 
mighty  prestige,  had  opened  the  eyes  and  ears 
of  the  people.  It  seemed  as  if  they  recognised 
and  felt  already  what  was  to  follow.  I  myself  felt 
in  the  beaming  of  those  many  flashing  eyes,  and 
that  expectant  throbbing  of  the  heart,  the  ap- 
230 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

proach  of  the  great  genius  who  with  bold  hands 
had  fixed  the  limits  of  his  art  in  our  time.  Lon- 
don, that  great  capital  of  machinery,  or  Hamburg, 
the  trade  emporium  of  Europe,  is  where  one 
should  hear  Liszt  for  the  first  time;  there  time 
and  place  harmonise;  and  in  Hamburg  I  was  to 
hear  him.  An  electric  shock  seemed  to  thrill 
the  hall  as  Liszt  entered.  Most  of  the  ladies  rose. 
A  sunbeam  flashed  across  each  face,  as  though 
every  eye  were  seeing  a  dear,  beloved  friend.  I 
stood  quite  close  to  the  artist.  He  is  a  slight 
young  man.  Long,  dark  hair  surrounded  the 
pale  face.  He  bowed  and  seated  himself  at  the 
instrument.  Liszt's  whole  appearance  and  his 
mobility  immediately  indicate  one  of  those  per- 
sonalities toward  which  one  is  attracted  solely 
by  their  individuality.  As  he  sat  at  the  piano 
the  first  impression  of  his  individuality  and  the 
trace  of  strong  passions  upon  his  pale  counten- 
ance made  me  imagine  that  he  might  be  a  demon 
banished  into  the  instrument  from  which  the 
tones  streamed  forth.  They  came  from  his  blood ; 
from  his  thoughts;  he  was  a  demon  who  had  to 
free  his  soul  by  playing;  he  was  under  the  torture; 
his  blood  flowed,  and  his  nerves  quivered.  But 
as  he  played  the  demonia  disappeared.  I  saw  the 
pale  countenance  assume  a  nobler,  more  beauti- 
ful expression.  The  divine  soul  flashed  from 
his  eyes,  from  every  feature;  he  grew  handsome 
— handsome  as  life  and  inspiration  can  make  one. 
His  Valse  Infemale  is  more  than  a  daguerreo- 
type from  Meyerbeer's  Robert.  We  do  not  stand 
231 


FRANZ  LISZT 

before  and  gaze  upon  the  well-known  picture. 
No,  we  transport  ourselves  into  the  midst  of  it. 
We  gaze  deep  into  the  very  abyss,  and  discover 
new,  whirling  forms.  It  did  not  seem  to  be  the 
strings  of  a  piano  that  were  sounding.  No,  every 
tone  was  like  an  echoing  drop  of  water.  Any  one 
who  admires  the  technic  of  art  must  bow  before 
Liszt;  he  that  is  charmed  with  the  genial,  the 
divine  gift,  bows  still  lower.  The  Orpheus  of 
our  day  has  made  tones  sound  through  the  great 
capital  of  machinery  and  a  Copenhagener  has 
said  that  'his  fingers  are  simply  railroads  and 
steam  engines.'  His  genius  is  more  powerful  to 
bring  together  the  great  minds  of  the  world  than 
all  the  railroads  on  earth.  The  Orpheus  of  our 
day  has  preached  music  in  the  trade  emporium 
of  Europe,  and  (at  least  for  a  moment)  the  people 
believed  the  gospel.  The  spirit's  gold  has  a  truer 
ring  than  that  of  the  world.  People  often  use  the 
expression  'a  sea  of  sound'  without  being  con- 
scious of  its  significance,  and  such  it  is  that 
streams  from  the  piano  at  which  Liszt  sits.  The 
instrument  appears  to  be  changed  into  a  whole 
orchestra.  This  is  accomplished  by  ten  fingers, 
which  possess  a  power  of  execution  that  might 
be  termed  superhuman.  They  are  guided  by  a 
mighty  genius.  It  is  a  sea  of  sound,  which  in  its 
very  agitation  is  a  mirror  for  the  life  task  of  each 
burning  heart.  I  have  met  politicians  who,  at 
Liszt's  playing,  conceived  that  peaceful  citizens 
at  the  sound  of  the  Marseillaise  might  be  so  car- 
ried away  that  they  might  seize  their  guns  and 
232 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

rush  forth  from  hearths  and  homes  to  fight  for 
an  idea!  I  have  seen  quiet  Copenhageners, 
with  Danish  autumnal  coolness  in  their  veins, 
become  political  bacchantes  at  his  playing.  The 
mathematician  has  grown  giddy  at  the  echoing 
fingers  and  the  reckoning  of  the  sounds.  Young 
disciples  of  Hegel  (and  among  those  the  really 
gifted  and  not  merely  the  light-headed,  who  at  the 
mere  galvanic  stream  of  philosophy  make  a  men- 
tal grimace)  perceived  in  this  sea  of  music  the 
wave-like  advances  of  knowledge  toward  the 
shore  of  perfection.  The  poet  found  the  rein  of 
his  heart's  whole  lyric,  or  the  rich  garment  of 
his  boldest  delineation.  The  traveller  (yes,  I 
conclude  with  myself)  receives  musical  pictures 
of  what  he  sees  or  will  see.  I  heard  his  playing 
as  it  were  an  overture  to  my  journey.  I  heard 
how  my  heart  throbbed  and  bled  on  my  leaving 
home.  I  heard  the  farewell  of  the  waves  —  the 
waves  that  I  should  only  hear  again  on  the  cliffs 
of  Terracina.  Organ  tones  seemed  to  sound 
from  Germany's  old  cathedrals.  The  glaciers 
rolled  from  the  Alpine  hills,  and  Italy  danced  in 
carnival  dresses,  and  struck  with  her  wooden 
sword  while  she  thought  in  her  heart  of  Caesar, 
Horace  and  Raphael.  Vesuvius  and  ^tna 
burned.  The  trumpet  of  judgment  resounded 
from  the  hills  of  Greece,  where  the  old  gods  are 
dead.  Tones  that  I  knew  not  —  tones  for  which 
I  have  no  words  —  pointed  to  the  East,  the  home 
of  fancy,  the  poet's  second  fatherland.  When 
Liszt  had  done  playing  the  flowers  rained  down 

^33 


FRANZ  LISZT 

on  him.  Young,  pretty  girls,  old  ladies,  who 
had  once  been  pretty  girls,  too,  threw  their  bou- 
quets. He  had  indeed  thrown  a  thousand  bou- 
quets into  their  hearts  and  brain. 

"From  Hamburg  Liszt  was  to  fly  to  London, 
there  to  strew  new  tone-bouquets,  there  to  breathe 
poetry  over  material  working  day  life.  Happy 
man!  who  can  thus  travel  throughout  his  whole 
life,  always  to  see  people  in  their  spiritual  Sun- 
day dress  —  yea,  even  in  the  wedding  garment  of 
inspiration.  Shall  I  often  meet  him  ?  That  was 
my  last  thought,  and  chance  willed  it  that  we 
meet  on  a  journey  at  a  spot  where  I  and  my  read- 
ers would  least  expect  it  —  met,  became  friends, 
and  again  separated.  But  that  belongs  to  the 
last  chapter  of  this  journey.  He  now  went  to 
the  city  of  Victoria  —  I  to  that  of  Gregory  the 
Sixteenth." 

HEINE 

There  are  several  reminiscences  of  Liszt  to  be 
found  in  the  collected  works  of  the  great  German 
author.     Heine,  writing  in  1844  at  Paris,  says: 

"When  I  sometime  ago  heard  of  the  marvel- 
lous excitement  which  broke  out  in  Germany,  and 
more  particularly  in  Berlin,  when  Liszt  showed 
himself  there,  I  shrugged  my  shoulders  and 
thought  quiet.  Sabbath-like  Germany  does  not 
want  to  lose  the  opportunity  of  indulging  in  a 
little  'permitted'  commotion;  it  longs  to  stretch 
its  sleep-stiflfened  limbs,  and  my  Philistines  on 
the  banks  of  the  Spree  are  fond  of  tickling  them- 

234 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

selves  into  enthusiasm,  while  one  declaims  after 
the  other,  *  Love,  ruler  of  gods  and  men ! '  It  does 
not  matter  to  them,  thought  I,  what  the  row  is 
about,  so  long  as  it  is  a  row,  whether  it  is  called 
George  Herwegh  (the  "Iron  Lark"),  Fanny  Es- 
sler  or  Franz  Liszt.  If  Herwegh  be  forbidden  we 
turn  to  the  politically  'safe'  and  uncompromis- 
ing Liszt.  So  thought  I,  so  I  explained  to  my- 
self the  Liszt  mania;  and  I  accepted  it  as  a  sign 
of  the  want  of  political  freedom  on  the  other  side 
of  the  Rhine.  But  I  was  in  error,  which  I  rec- 
ognised for  the  first  time  at  the  Italian  Opera 
House  where  Liszt  gave  his  first  concert,  and  be- 
fore an  assembly  which  is  best  described  as  the 
^lite  of  society  here.  They  were,  anyhow,  wide- 
awake Parisians :  people  familiar  with  the  great- 
est celebrities  of  modern  times,  totally  blase  and 
preoccupied  men,  who  had  'done  to  death'  all 
things  in  the  world,  art  included;  women  equally 
'done  up'  by  having  danced- the  polka  the  whole 
winter  through.  Truly  it  was  no  German  sen- 
timental, Berlin-emotional  audience  before  which 
Liszt  played  —  quite  alone,  or  rather  accompan- 
ied only  by  his  genius.  And  yet,  what  an  elec- 
trically powerful  effect  his  mere  appearance  pro- 
duced! What  a  storm  of  applause  greeted  him! 
How  many  bouquets  were  flung  at  his  feet!  It 
was  an  impressive  sight  to  see  with  what  im- 
perturbable self-possession  the  great  conqueror 
allowed  the  flowers  to  rain  upon  him  and  then, 
at  last,  graciously  smiling,  selected  a  red  camellia 
and  stuck  it  in  his  buttonhole.    And  this  he  did 

235 


FRANZ  LISZT 

in  the  presence  of  several  young  soldiers  just  ar- 
rived from  Africa,  where  it  did  not  rain  flowers  but 
leaden  bullets,  and  they  were  decorated  with  the 
red  camellias  of  their  own  heroes'  blood,  without 
receiving  any  particular  notice  either  here  for 
it.  Strange,  thought  I,  these  Parisians  have  seen 
Napoleon,  who  was  obliged  to  supply  them  with 
one  battle  after  another  to  retain  their  attention 
— these  receive  our  Franz  Liszt  with  acclama- 
tion !  And  what  acclamation ! — a  positive  frenzy, 
never  before  known  in  the  annals  of  furore." 

Heine  relates  the  following  curious  conversa- 
tion he  had  with  a  medical  man  about  Liszt: 

"  A  physician  whose  specialty  is  woman,  whom 
I  questioned  as  to  the  fascination  which  Liszt  ex- 
ercises on  his  public,  smiled  very  strangely,  and 
at  the  same  time  spoke  of  magnetism,  galvanism, 
and  electricity,  of  contagion  in  a  sultry  hall,  filled 
with  innumerable  wax-lights,  and  some  hundred 
perfumed  and  perspiring  people,  of  histrionic 
epilepsy,  of  the  phenomenon  of  tickling,  of  musical 
cantharides,  and  other  unmentionable  matters, 
which,  I  think,  have  to  do  with  the  mysteries  of 
the  bona  dea;  the  solution  of  the  question,  how- 
ever, does  not  lie  perhaps  so  strangely  deep,  but 
on  a  very  prosaic  surface.  I  am  sometimes  in- 
clined to  think  that  the  whole  witchery  might 
be  explained  thus  —  namely,  that  nobody  in  this 
world  knows  so  well  how  to  organise  his  suc- 
cesses, or  rather  their  mise  en  scene,  as  Franz 
Liszt.  In  this  art  he  is  a  genuis,  a  Philadelphia, 
a  Bosco,  a  Houdin — yea,  a  Meyerbeer.   The  most 

236 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

distinguished  persons  serve  him  gratis  as  com- 
peres, and  his  hired  enthusiasts  are  drilled  in  an 
exemplary  way." 

This  amusing  anecdote  about  Liszt  and  the 
once  famous  tenor,  Rubini,  is  also  told  by  Heine: 

"The  celebrated  singer  had  undertaken  a  tour 
with  Franz  Liszt,  sharing  expenses  and  profits. 
The  great  pianist  took  Signor  Belloni  about  with 
him  everywhere  (the  entrepreneur  in  general  of 
his  reputation),  and  to  him  was  left  the  whole  of 
the  business  management.  When,  however,  all 
accounts  had  been  settled  up,  and  Signor  Belloni 
presented  his  little  bill,  what  was  Rubini's  horror 
to  find  that  among  the  mutual  expenses  there 
appeared  sundry  considerable  items  for  'laurel 
wreaths,'  'bouquets,'  'laudatory  poems,'  and 
suchlike  'ovation  expenses.' 

"  The  naive  singer  had,  in  his  innocence,  imag- 
ined that  he  had  been  granted  these  tokens  of  pub- 
lic favour  solely  on  account  of  his  lovely  voice.  He 
flew  into  a  great  rage,  and  swore  he  would  not 
pay  for  the  bouquets  which  probably  contained 
the  most  expensive  camellias." 

That  Heine  could  appreciate  Liszt  seriously, 
these  extracts  testify  sufficiently: 

"He  (Liszt)  is  indisputably  the  artist  in  Paris 
who  finds  the  most  unlimited  enthusiasm  as  well 
as  the  most  zealous  opponents.  It  is  a  character- 
istic sign  that  no  one  speaks  of  him  with  indif- 
ference. Without  power  no  one  in  this  world 
can  excite  either  favourable  or  hostile  passions. 
One  must  possess  fire  to  excite  men  to  hatred  as 

237 


FRANZ  LISZT 

well  as  to  love.  That  which  testifies  especially 
for  Liszt  is  the  complete  esteem  with  which  even 
his  enemies  speak  of  his  personal  worth.  He  is  a 
man  of  whimsical  but  noble  character,  unselfish 
and  without  deceit.  Especially  remarkable  are 
his  spiritual  proclivities;  he  has  great  taste  for 
speculative  ideas,  and  he  takes  even  more  in- 
terest in  the  essays  of  the  various  schools  which 
occupy  themselves  with  the  solution  of  the  prob- 
lems of  heaven  and  earth  than  in  his  art  itself. 
It  is,  however,  praiseworthy,  this  indefatigable 
yearning  after  light  and  divinity;  it  is  a  proof  of 
his  taste  for  the  holy,  for  the  religious.  .  .  . 

"  Yes,  Franz  Liszt,  the  pianist  of  genius,  whose 
playing  often  appears  to  me  as  the  melodious 
agony  of  a  spectral  world,  is  again  here,  and  giv- 
ing concerts  which  exercise  a  charm  which  bor- 
ders on  the  fabulous.  By  his  side  all  piano  play- 
ers, with  the  exception  of  Chopin,  the  Raphael  of 
the  piano,  are  as  nothing.  In  fact,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  this  last  named  artist  alone,  all  the 
other  piano  players  whom  we  hear  in  countless 
concerts  are  only  piano  players;  their  only  merit 
is  the  dexterity  with  which  they  handle  the  ma- 
chine of  wood  and  wire.  With  Liszt,  on  the  con- 
trary, the  people  think  no  more  about  the  'diffi- 
culty overcome ' ;  the  piano  disappears,  the  music 
is  revealed.  In  this  respect  has  Liszt,  since  I 
last  heard  him,  made  the  most  astonishing  prog- 
ress. With  this  advantage  he  combines  now  a 
reposed  manner,  which  I  failed  to  perceive  in  him 
formerly.    If,  for  example,  he  played  a  storm 

238 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

on  the  piano  we  saw  the  lightning  flicker  about 
his  features;  his  limbs  fluttered  as  with  the  blast 
of  a  storm,  and  his  long  locks  of  hair  dripped  as 
with  real  showers  of  rain.  Now  when  he  plays 
the  most  violent  storm  he  seems  exalted  above  it, 
like  the  traveller  who  stands  on  the  summit  of  an 
Alp  while  the  tempest  rages  in  the  valley;  the 
clouds  he  deep  below  him,  the  lightning  curls  like 
snakes  at  his  feet,  but  his  head  is  uplifted  smil- 
ingly into  the  pure  ether." 

The  following  remarks  on  Liszt,  to  be  found 
in  Heine's  letters  to  his  friends,  are  also  inter- 
esting: 

"That  such  a  restless  head,  driven  and  per- 
plexed by  all  the  needs  and  doctrines  of  his  time, 
feeling  compelled  to  trouble  himself  about  all  the 
necessities  of  humanity,  and  eagerly  sticking  his 
nose  into  all  the  pots  in  which  the  good  God  brews 
the  future  —  that  Franz  Liszt  can  be  no  quiet 
piano  player  for  tranquil  townfolks  and  good- 
natured  night-caps  is  self-evident.  When  he  sits 
down  at  the  piano,  and  has  stroked  his  hair  back 
over  his  forehead  several  times,  and  begins  to 
improvise,  he  often  storms  away  right  madly  over 
the  ivory  keys,  and  there  rings  out  a  wilderness 
of  heaven-height  thought,  amid  which  here  and 
there  the  sweetest  flowers  diffuse  their  fragrance, 
so  that  one  is  at  once  troubled  and  beatified,  but 
troubled  most." 

To  another  he  writes: 

"I  confess  to  you,  much  as  I  love  Liszt,  his 
music  does  not  operate  agreeably  upon  my  mind; 

239 


FRANZ  LISZT 

the  more  so  that  I  am  a  Sunday  child,  and  also 
see  the  spectres  which  others  only  hear;  since, 
as  you  know,  at  every  tone  which  the  hand  strikes 
upon  the  keyboard  the  corresponding  tone  figure 
rises  in  my  mind;  in  short,  since  music  becomes 
visible  to  my  inward  eye.  My  brain  still  reels  at 
the  recollection  of  the  concert  in  which  I  last  heard 
Liszt  play.  It  was  in  a  concert  for  the  unfor- 
tunate Italians,  in  the  hotel  of  that  beautiful,  no- 
ble, and  suffering  princess,  who  so  beautifully  re- 
presents her  material  and  her  spiritual  fatherland, 
to  wit,  Italy  and  Heaven.  (You  surely  have  seen 
her  in  Paris,  that  ideal  form,  which  yet  is  but  the 
prison  in  which  the  holiest  angel-soul  has  been 
imprisoned;  but  this  prison  is  so  beautiful  that 
every  one  lingers  before  it  as  if  enchanted,  and 
gazes  at  it  with  astonishment.)  It  was  at  a  con- 
cert for  the  benefit  of  the  unhappy  Italians  where 
I  last  heard  Liszt,  during  the  past  winter,  play, 
I  know  not  what,  but  I  could  swear  he  varied 
upon  themes  from  the  Apocalypse.  At  first  I 
could  not  quite  distinctly  see  them,  the  four  mys- 
tical beasts;  I  only  heard  their  voices,  especially 
the  roaring  of  the  lion  and  the  screaming  of  the 
eagle.  The  ox  with  the  book  in  his  hand  I  saw 
clearly  enough.  Best  of  all,  he  played  the  Valley 
of  Jehoshaphat.  There  were  lists  as  at  a  tourna- 
ment, and  for  spectators  the  risen  people,  pale 
as  the  grave  and  trembling,  crowded  round  the 
immense  space.  First  galloped  Satan  into  the 
lists,  in  black  harness,  on  a  milk-white  steed. 
Slowly  rode  behind  him  Death  on  his  pale  horse. 
240 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

At  last  Christ  appeared,  in  golden  armour,  on  a 
black  horse,  and  with  His  holy  lance  He  first 
thrust  Satan  to  the  ground,  and  then  Death,  and 
the  spectators  shouted.  Tumultuous  applause 
followed  the  playing  of  the  valiant  Liszt,  who  left 
his  seat  exhausted  and  bowed  before  the  ladies. 
About  the  lips  of  the  fairest  played  that  melan- 
choly smile." 

Heine  also  relates: 

"  On  one  occasion  two  Hungarian  countesses, 
to  get  his  snuff-box,  threw  each  other  down  upon 
the  ground  and  fought  till  they  were  exhausted!" 

CAROLINE  BAUER 

The  lady  whose  revelations  in  her  M^moires 
about  various  royal  and  princely  personages 
furnished  the  contributors  of  "Society"  papers 
with  a  large  amount  of  "copy"  at  the  time  of  its 
publication,  writes  as  follows  concerning  Liszt's 
intimacy  with  Prince  Lichnowsky  in  1844: 

"I  had  heard  a  great  deal  in  Ratibor  of  mad 
Prince  Felix  Lichnowsky,  who  lived  at  his  neigh- 
bouring country  seat,  and  who  furnished  an 
abundant  daily  supply  for  the  scandal-mongers 
of  the  town.  Six  years  before  that  time  the  prince 
had  quitted  the  Prussian  service,  owing  to  his 
debts  and  other  irregularities,  and  had  gone  to 
Spain  to  evade  his  unhappy  creditors,  and  to  offer 
his  ward  to  the  Pretender,  Don  Carlos.  Three 
years  afterward  he  had  returned  from  Spain  with 
the  rank  of  Carlist  brigadier-general,  and  now  he 
241 


FRANZ  LISZT 

lived  in  his  hermitage,  near  Ratibor,  by  no  means 
a  pious  hermit.  And  then,  one  evening,  shortly 
before  the  commencement  of  the  'LetzterWa£f en- 
gang,'  when  I  was  already  dressed  in  my  costume, 
the  prince  stood  before  me  behind  the  scanty 
wings  of  the  Ratibor  stage,  to  renew  his  acquaint- 
ance with  me.  He  had  aged,  his  checkered  life 
not  having  passed  over  him  without  leaving  traces ; 
but  he  was  still  the  same  elegant,  arrogant  liber- 
tine he  was  at  Prague,  of  whom  a  journalist 
wrote:  'Prince  Felix  Lichnowsky,  like  Prince 
Piickler,  belongs  to  those  dandies,  roues,  lions 
who  attract  the  attention  of  the  multitude  at  any 
cost  by  their  contempt  of  men,  their  triviality, 
impudence,  liaisons,  horses,  and  duels;  a  kind  of 
modem  Alcibiades,  every  dog  cutting  the  tail  of 
another  dog.'  Within  the  first  five  minutes  I 
learned  from  the  prince's  lips:  'My  friend  Liszt 
has  lately  been  living  with  me  at  my  hermitage 
for  several  weeks,  and  we  have  led  a  very  agree- 
able life  together.'  Yes,  indeed,  in  Ratibor,  the 
people  related  the  wildest  stories  of  this  pasha 
life!  The  following  forenoon  the  prince  in- 
vited us  to  a  dejetiner  k  la  fourchette  at  his  'her- 
mitage,' as  he  liked  to  call  it.  We  inspected  the 
park,  which  contained  many  fine  trees;  I  tried 
the  glorious '  grand'  which  Liszt  had  consecrated. 
But  I  was  not  to  rise  from  the  table  without  hav- 
ing had  a  new  skirmish  with  my  prince  from 
Prague  —  preux  chevalier.  The  conversation 
turned  about  Director  Nachtigall,  and  suddenly 
Lichnowsky  said  roughly: 
242 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

"'Just  fancy,  this  Nachtigall  had  the  impu- 
dence to  call  here  and  invite  my  friend  Liszt  to 
play  upon  his  miserable  Ratibor  stage.  A  Liszt, 
and  my  guest,  to  play  in  Ratibor,  and  with  a 
Nachtigall — unheard  of!  You  may  imagine  that 
I  gave  this  Nachtigall  a  becoming  answer.' 

"The  bit  stuck  in  my  mouth,  and,  trembling 
with  indignation,  I  said  sharply: 

"  'My  prince,  am  I  not  your  guest,  too?  And 
do  not  I  play  in  Ratibor,  and  with  a  Nachtigall  ? 
If  your  friend  Liszt  had  done  nothing  worse  here 
than  play  the  piano  in  Ratibor  he  would  not  have 
degraded  himself  in  any  way.' 

"  'Ah!  the  town  gossip  of  Ratibor  has  your 
ear,  too,  I  see!'  Lichnowsky  said,  with  a  scorn- 
ful smile.  'But  of  course  we  are  not  going  to 
quarrel.'  " 

Caroline  Bauer  also  relates  in  her  M^moires 
the  following  anecdote  about  Liszt  and  the 
haughty  Princess  Metternich: 

"Liszt  had  been  introduced  to  the  princess  and 
paid  her  a  visit  in  Vienna.  He  was  received  and 
ushered  into  the  drawing-room,  in  which  the 
princess  was  holding  a  lively  conversation  with 
another  lady.  A  condescending  nod  of  the  head 
was  responded  to  the  bow  of  the  world-renowned 
artist;  a  gracious  movement  of  the  head  invited 
him  to  be  seated.  In  vain  the  proud  and  spoiled 
man  waited  to  be  introduced  to  the  visitor,  and 
to  have  an  opportunity  of  joining  in  the  conver- 
sation. The  princess  quietly  continued  to  con- 
verse with  the  lady  as  if  Franz  Liszt  were  not  in 

243 


FRANZ  LISZT 

existence  at  all,  at  least  not  in  her  salon.  At  last 
she  asked  him  in  a  cool  and  off-hand  manner: 

"  'Did  you  do  a  good  stroke  of  business  at  the 
concert  you  gave  in  Italy  ? ' 

"  'Princess,'  he  replied  coldly,  'I  am  a  musi- 
cian, and  not  a  man  of  business.' 

"The  artist  bowed  stiffly  and  instantly  left. 

"Soon  after  this  Prince  Mettemich  proved 
himself  to  be  as  perfect  a  gentleman  as  he  was  a 
diplomatist.  At  Liszt's  first  concert  in  Vienna 
he  went  to  him  and,  entering  the  artist's  room, 
cordially  pressed  his  hands  before  everybody, 
and,  with  a  gracious  smile,  said  softly: 

"  'I  trust  you  will  pardon  my  wife  for  a  slip 
of  the  tongue  the  other  day;  you  know  what 
women  are!'  " 

FANNY  KEMBLE 

Mrs.  Kemble,  in  her  chatty  book,  Records  of 
Later  Life,  relates  a  pleasant  incident  in  Sep- 
tember, 1842: 

"Our  temporary  fellowship  with  Liszt  pro- 
cured for  us  a  delightful  participation  in  a  trib- 
ute of  admiration  from  the  citizen  workmen  of 
Coblentz-,  that  was  what  the  French  call  saisissant. 
We  were  sitting  all  in  our  hotel  drawing-room 
together,  the  maestro,  as  usual,  smoking  his  long 
pipe,  when  a  sudden  burst  of  music  made  us 
throw  open  the  window  and  go  out  on  the  bal- 
cony, when  Liszt  was  greeted  by  a  magnificent 
chorus  of  nearly  two  hundred  men's  voices.  They 
244 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

sang  to  perfection,  each  with  his  small  sheet  of 
music  and  his  sheltered  light  in  his  hand;  and 
the  performance,  which  was  the  only  one  of  the 
sort  I  ever  heard,  gave  a  wonderful  impression 
of  the  musical  capacity  of  the  only  really  musi- 
cal nation  in  the  world." 

Mrs.  Kemble  also  gives  her  impression  of 
Liszt  at  Munich  in  1870: 

"I  had  gone  to  the  theatre  at  Munich,  where 
I  was  staying,  to  hear  Wagner's  opera  of  the 
Rheingold,  with  my  daughter  and  her  husband. 
We  had  already  taken  our  places,  when  S.  ex- 
claimed to  me,  'There  is  Liszt.'  The  increased 
age,  the  clerical  dress  had  effected  but  little 
change  in  the  striking  general  appearance,  which 
my  daughter  (who  had  never  seen  him  since  1842, 
when  she  was  quite  a  child)  recognised  immedi- 
ately. I  went  round  to  his  box,  and,  recalling 
myself  to  his  memory,  begged  him  to  come  to 
ours,  and  let  me  present  my  daughter  to  him. 
He  very  good-naturedly  did  so,  and  the  next  day 
called  upon  us  at  our  hotel  and  sat  with  us  a  long 
time.  His  conversation  on  matters  of  art  (Wag- 
ner's music  which  he  and  we  had  listened  to  the 
evening  before)  and  literature  was  curiously  cau- 
tious  and  guarded,  and  every  expression  of  opin- 
ion given  with  extreme  reserve,  instead  of  the  un- 
compromising fearlessness  of  his  earlier  years; 
and  the  Abbe  was  indeed  quite  another  from  the 
Liszt  of  our  summer  on  the  Rhine  of  1842." 


245 


FRANZ  LISZT 


LOLA  MONTEZ 

The  once  notorious  actress,  who,  after  a  series 
of  adventures  caused  some  uproar  at  Munich, 
met  Liszt  during  his  travels  in  Germany,  and 
her  biographer  relates  how  they  divided  honours 
at  Dresden  in  1842. 

"Through  the  management  of  influential 
friends  an  opening  was  made  for  her  at  the  Royal 
Theatre  at  Dresden,  where  she  met  the  cele- 
brated pianist,  Franz  Liszt,  who  was  then  cre- 
ating such  a  furore  that  when  he  dropped  his 
pocket  handkerchief  it  was  seized  by  the  ladies 
and  torn  into  rags,  which  they  divided  among 
themselves  —  each  being  but  too  happy  to  get  so 
much  as  a  scrap  which  had  belonged  to  the  great 
artist.  The  furore  created  by  Lola  Montez'  ap- 
pearance at  the  theatre  in  Dresden  was  quite  as 
great  among  the  gentlemen  as  was  Liszt's  among 
the  ladies." 

Lola  Montez,  during  the  last  few  years  of  her 
life,  devoted  herself  to  lecturing  in  various  Eu- 
ropean cities,  and  the  following  is  extracted  from 
apubhshed  one  entitled,  "The  Wits  and  Women 
of  Paris": 

"There  was  a  gifted  and  fashionable  lady  (the 
Countess  of  Agoult),  herself  an  accomplished 
authoress,  concerning  whom  and  George  Sand 
a  curious  tale  is  told.  They  were  great  friends, 
and  the  celebrated  pianist  Liszt  was  the  admirer 
of  both.  Things  went  on  smoothly  for  some 
246 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

time,  all  couleur  de  rose,  when  one  fine  day  Liszt 
and  George  Sand  disappeared  suddenly  from 
Paris,  having  taken  it  into  their  heads  to  make 
the  tour  of  Switzerland  for  the  summer  together. 
Great  was  the  indignation  of  the  fair  countess  at 
this  double  desertion;  and  when  they  returned  to 
Paris  Madame  d'Agoult  went  to  George  Sand 
and  immediately  challenged  the  great  writer  to 
a  duel,  the  weapons  to  be  finger-nails,  etc.  Poor 
Liszt  ran  out  of  the  room  and  locked  himself  up 
in  a  dark  closet  till  the  deadly  affray  was  ended, 
and  then  made  his  body  over  in  charge  to  a  friend, 
to  be  preserved,  as  he  said,  for  the  remaining  as- 
sailant. Madame  d'Agoult  was  married  to  a 
bookworm,  who  cared  for  naught  else  but  his 
library;  he  did  not  know  even  the  number  of 
children  he  possessed,  and  so  little  the  old 
philosopher  cared  about  the  matter  that  when  a 
stranger  came  to  the  house  he  invariably,  at  the 
appearance  of  the  family,  said :  *  Allow  me  to  pre- 
sent to  you  my  wife's  children';  all  this  with  the 
blandest  smile  and  most  contented  air." 
Lola  Montez  also  says  in  her  lecture: 
"I  once  asked  George  Sand  which  she  thought 
the  greatest  pianist,  Liszt  or  Thalberg.  She  re- 
plied, '  Liszt  is  the  greatest,  but  there  is  only  one 
Thalberg.  If  I  were  to  attempt  to  give  an  idea 
of  the  difference  between  Liszt  and  Thalberg,  I 
should  say  that  Thalberg  is  like  the  clear,  placid 
flow  of  a  deep,  grand  river;  while  Liszt  is  the 
same  tide  foaming  and  bubbling  and  dashing  on 
like  a  cataract.' " 

247 


FRANZ  LISZT 


MRS.  ELLET 


This  lady,  in  an  account  of  an  autumn  holiday 
on  the  Rhine,  relates: 

"Liszt,  with  his  wonted  kindness,  had  offered 
to  give  a  concert  in  Cologne,  the  proceeds  of 
which  were  to  be  appropriated  to  the  completion 
of  the  Cathedral;  the  Rhenish  Liedertafel  re- 
solved to  bring  him  with  due  pomp  from  the 
island  of  Nonnenwerth,  near  Bonn,  where  he  had 
been  for  some  days.  A  steamboat  was  hired  ex- 
pressly for  this  purpose,  and  conveyed  a  numer- 
ous company  to  Nonnenwerth  at  1 1  in  the  morn- 
ing. The  Liedertafel  then  greeted  the  artist, 
who  stood  on  the  shore,  by  singing  a  morning 
salute,  accompanied  by  the  firing  of  cannons  and 
loud  hurrahs.  They  then  marched  with  wind- 
instruments  in  advance  to  the  now  empty  chapel 
of  the  cloister  of  Nonnenwerth,  where  they  sang, 
and  thence  to  Rolandseck,  where  an  elegant  din- 
ner was  prepared  for  the  company.  All  eyes 
were  fixed  on  Liszt;  all  hearts  were  turned  to 
him.  He  proposed  a  toast  in  honour  of  his  en- 
tertainers; and  at  the  conclusion  of  his  speech 
observed  with  justice  that  nowhere  in  the  world 
could  any  club  be  found  like  the  Liedertafel  in 
Germany.  When  the  banquet  was  over  they 
returned  to  Nonnenwerth,  where  a  crowd  of  peo- 
ple from  the  surrounding  country  was  assembled. 
The  universal  wish  to  hear  Liszt  was  so  evident 
that  he  was  induced  to  send  for  a  piano  to  be 
248 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

brought  into  the  chapel,  and  to  gratify  the  as- 
sembly —  listening  and  rapt  with  delight  —  by 
a  display  of  his  transcendent  powers.  The  deso- 
late halls  of  the  chapel  once  more  resounded  with 
the  stir  and  voices  of  life.  Not  even  the  nuns,  we 
will  venture  to  say,  who  in  former  times  used  here 
to  offer  up  prayers  to  heaven,  were  impressed 
with  a  deeper  sense  of  the  heavenly  than  was  this 
somewhat  worldly  assembly  by  the  magnificent 
music  of  Liszt,  that  seemed  indeed  to  disclose 
things  beyond  this  earth.  At  7  o'clock  the  Lied- 
ertafel,  with  Liszt  at  their  head,  marched  on  their 
return,  and  went  on  board  the  steamboat,  which 
was  decorated  with  coloured  flags,  amid  peals 
of  cannon.  It  was  9,  and  quite  dark,  when  they 
approached  their  landing.  Rockets  were  sent 
up  from  the  boat,  and  a  continued  stream  of  col- 
oured fireworks,  so  that  as  the  city  rose  before 
them  from  the  bosom  of  the  Rhine  the  boat 
seemed  enveloped  in  a  circle  of  brilliant  flame 
which  threw  its  reflection  far  over  the  waters. 
Music  and  hurrahs  greeted  our  artist  on  shore; 
all  Cologne  was  assembled  to  give  him  the  splen- 
did welcome  which  in  other  times  only  monarchs 
received.  Slowly  the  procession  of  the  Lieder- 
tafel  moved  through  the  multitude  to  the  hotel, 
where  again  and  again  shouts  and  cheers  testi- 
fied the  joy  of  the  people  at  the  arrival  of  their 
distinguished  guest." 


249 


FRANZ  LISZT 


MINASI 

Minasi,  the  once  popular  painter,  who  sketched 
a  portrait  of  Thalberg  during  his  first  sojourn  in 
London,  also  wrote  an  account  of  an  interesting 
conversation  about  Liszt: 

"The  purpose  of  my  requesting  an  introduc- 
tion to  M.  Thalberg  was,  first,  to  be  acquainted 
with  a  man  of  his  genius;  and  next,  to  request 
the  favour  of  his  sitting  for  his  portrait,  executed 
in  a  new  style  with  pen  and  ink.  His  total  free- 
dom from  all  ceremony  and  affectation  perfectly 
charmed  me.  He  appointed  the  next  morning 
at  9  for  his  first  sitting;  and  in  my  eagerness  to 
commence  my  task,  and  make  one  of  my  best 
studies,  I  was  in  his  breakfast  room  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  before  my  time.  While  he  was  tak- 
ing his  breakfast  I  addressed  him  in  my  own 
language;  and  when  he  answered  me  with  a  most 
beautiful  accent  I  was  delighted  beyond  measure. 
I  felt  doubly  at  home  with  him.  Since  then  I 
find  that  he  is  a  perfect  scholar,  possessing,  with 
his  finished  pronunciation,  a  great  propriety  of 
conception. 

"While  I  was  putting  on  paper  the  outlines 
of  his  profile  (a  striking  feature  of  his  face),  I 
inquired  whether  he  was  acquainted  with  my 
friend  Liszt  in  Paris.  He  remarked  that  Liszt 
had  disgraced  himself  with  all  impartial  persons 
by  writing  against  him  with  violent  acrimony  in 
the  public  prints;  and  which  act  he  himself  ac- 
250 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

knowledged  was  the  result  of  professional  jeal- 
ousy. I  was  the  more  grieved  to  hear  this,  be- 
cause I  had  entertained  the  highest  respect  for 
Liszt,  who,  as  I  told  Thalberg,  would  never  have 
demeaned  himself  had  his  father  been  living; 
whose  last  words  to  his  son  were:  'My  son,  you 
have  always  conducted  yourself  well;  but  I  fear, 
after  my  death,  some  designing  knave  will  lay 
hold  of  and  make  a  dupe  of  you.  Take  care,  my 
dear  son,  with  whom  you  associate.'  In  one 
instance,  Liszt  met  Thalberg,  and  proposed  that 
they  should  play  a  duet  in  public,  and  that 
he  (Liszt)  should  appoint  the  time.  Thalberg's 
answer  was: '  Je  n'aime  pas  d'etre  accompagne,' 
which  greatly  amused  the  Parisians.  Upon  an- 
other occasion,  Liszt  made  free  to  tell  Thalberg 
that  he  did  not  admire  his  compositions.  Thal- 
berg replied :  '  Since  you  do  not  like  my  composi- 
tions, Liszt,  I  do  not  like  yours.' 

"To  the  honour  of  Liszt,  however,  it  should  be 
stated  that,  having  called  upon  Thalberg,  he  ack- 
nowledged his  errors,  making  him  a  solemn 
promise  never  to  offend  in  the  same  manner,  ad- 
ding that  the  cause  of  his  attack  upon  him  arose 
from  jealousy  of  his  rival's  high  talents,  which 
made  him  the  idol  of  the  Parisians,  and  by 
whom  he  was  received  with  the  greatest  enthu- 
siasm. Thalberg  dismissed  the  subject  with  me, 
by  doing  justice  to  himself  as  a  public  per- 
former; at  the  same  time  declaring  that  Liszt  is 
one  of  the  greatest  pianists  in  Europe,  and  he 
concluded  with  the  following  generous  admis- 

251 


FRANZ  LISZT 

sion:  'Nevertheless,  after  all  that  has  passed 
between  us,  I  think  Liszt  would  do  anything  to 
oblige  me.'  " 

MACREADY 

The  once  popular  novelist,  the  Countess  of 
Blessington,  on  May  31,  1840,  invited  many  dis- 
tinguished personages  to  her  London  house  to 
meet  Liszt,  and  among  those  who  came  were 
Lord  Normanby,  Lord  Canterbury,  Lord  Hough- 
ton (then  Mr.  Monckton  Milnes),  Chorley,  Ru- 
bini,  Stuart  Wortley,  Palgrave  Simpson, and  Mac- 
ready,  the  famous  tragedian.  Liszt  played  sev- 
eral times  during  the  evening,  and  created  an 
impression  on  all  those  present,  especially  on 
Macready,  who  notes  in  his  diary: 

"Liszt,  the  most  marvellous  pianist  I  ever 
heard;  I  do  not  know  when  I  have  been  so  ex- 
cited." 

AN  ANONYMOUS  GERMAN  ADMIRER 

The  following  recollections  of  Liszt's  first  visit 
to  Stuttgart  were  published  in  a  periodical  many 
years  ago.  Though  they  appeared  without  any 
signature,  the  author  seems  to  have  been  on  inti- 
mate terms  with  the  great  musician: 

"Liszt  played  several  times  at  court,  for  which 
he  received  all  possible  distinctions  which  the 
King  of  Wurtemberg  could  confer  upon  an  artist. 
The  list  of  honours  was  exhausted  when  the  royal 
princesses  wished  to  hear  once  more  this  magician 
352 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

of  the  piano  keys  quite  privately  in  their  own 
apartments.  Liszt,  our  truly  chivalric  artist, 
accepted  with  delight  such  an  invitation,  expect- 
ing less  to  show  himself  as  an  artist  than  to  ex- 
press his  thanks  for  the  many  honours  received. 
It  must  have  been  rare  enjoyment  for  a  royal 
family  which  recognised  in  art  only  a  graceful 
pastime  and  a  delightful  intoxication  of  the  sense, 
with  an  agreeable  excitement  of  the  sentiments; 
for  no  artist  in  the  world  understands  better  than 
Liszt  how  to  survey  at  a  glance  the  character  and 
the  most  hidden  recesses  in  the  hearts  of  his  au- 
dience. This  very  fact  is  the  cause  of  his  wonder- 
ful effects,  and  will  secure  them  to  him  always. 
He  played  on  that  occasion  Weber's  Invitation 
k  la  Valse,  with  his  own  effectual,  free,  final 
cadenza,  his  Chromatic  Galop  (which  causes  all 
nerves  to  vibrate) ,  and  a  few  of  his  transcriptions 
of  Schubert's  songs  —  those  genuine  pearls,  the 
richness  and  colouring  of  which  none  can  show 
so  well  as  himself,  being  a  unique  and  most  per- 
fect master  of  the  art  of  touch.  And,  finally,  in 
order  to  show  something  at  least  of  his  immense 
bravura,  he  played  a  little  concert  piece.  The 
most  gracious  words  of  acknowledgment  were 
showered  upon  him.  Liszt,  enraptured  by  the 
truly  heavenly  eyes  of  one  of  the  princesses, 
which,  rendered  still  more  beautiful  by  a  singu- 
lar moisture,  were  fixed  upon  him,  declared 
his  happiness  in  thus  being  able  to  express  his 
thanks  for  the  many  honours  conferred  upon 
him. 

253 


FRANZ  LISZT 

"Among  all  the  princes  of  Europe,  however, 
there  is  none  so  little  inclined  to  accept  of  ser- 
vices without  remuneration  as  the  King  of  Wur- 
temberg.  This  is  one  of  the  many  chivalric 
traits  in  the  character  of  that  monarch;  no  other 
rewards  artists  in  such  royal  style.  On  the  next 
morning  I  was  with  Liszt,  each  of  us  smoking  a 
real  Havana  comfortably  on  one  end  of  the  sofa. 
Liszt  was  telling  me  of  his  last  visit  to  court,  when 
one  of  its  servants  entered.  He  placed  a  roll  of 
150  ducats  in  gold  upon  the  table,  and  present- 
ing Liszt  with  an  open  receipt,  asked  him  to  sign 
it.  Liszt  read: 'Received  for  playing,' etc.  Aloud, 
and  in  a  tone  of  astonishment,  Liszt  repeated  the 
words,  'Received  for  my  playing?'  and,  rising 
with  that  peculiar  aristocratic  grace,  he  says  in 
a  mild,  condescending  tone:  'For  my  playing  — 
am  I  to  sign  this  document?  My  friend,  I  im- 
agine some  clerk  of  the  court  treasury  has 
written  this  scrawl.'  Upon  which  the  servant, 
interrupting,  said  that  it  had  been  written  by 
Herr  Tagel,  Counsellor  of  Court  and  Director 
of  the  Court  Treasury.  'Well,'  said  Liszt,  'take 
back  the  receipt  and  money,  and  tell'  (raising 
his  voice)  'the  counsellor  from  me,  that  neither 
king  nor  emperor  can  pay  an  artist  for  his  play- 
ing —  only,  perchance,  for  his  lost  time,  and ' 
(with  haughty  indignation)  'that  the  counsellor 
is  a  blockhead  if  he  does  not  comprehend  that. 
For  your  trouble,  my  friend,'  (giving  him  5  duc- 
ats) 'take  this  trifle.'" 

The  writer  goes  on  to  say: 

254 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

"  The  servant,  in  utter  astonishment,  knew  not 
what  to  answer,  and  looked  at  me.  But  Liszt's 
slight  figure  was  erect,  his  finely  cut  lips  were 
compressed,  his  head  was  boldly  thrown  back, 
so  that  his  thick  hair  fell  far  down  on  his  shoul- 
ders; his  nostrils  were  expanding,  the  lightning 
of  his  keen  and  brilliant  eye  was  gleaming,  his 
arms  were  folded,  and  he  showed  all  his  usual 
indications  of  inward  commotion.  Knowing, 
therefore,  that  Liszt  had  by  that  document  been 
touched  in  his  most  sensitive  point,  and  that  this 
was  nothing  more  nor  less  than  a  small  battle  in 
his  great  contest  for  the  social  position  and  rights 
of  artists  —  a  contest  which,  when  a  boy  of  fif- 
teen years,  he  had  already  taken  up  —  I  was  well 
aware  of  the  impossibility  of  changing  his  mind 
for  the  present,  and  therefore  remained  silent, 
while  the  discomfited  lackey  retired  with  many 
low  bows,  taking  money  and  scroll  with  him. 
Whether  he  really  delivered  the  message  I  know 
not;  but  I  was  still  with  Liszt  when  he  reappeared 
and,  laying  the  money  upon  the  table,  gave  Liszt 
a  large  sealed  letter,  which  read  as  follows: 
'The  undersigned  ofl&cer  of  the  Treasury  of 
Court,  commanded  by  His  Majesty  the  King, 
begs  Dr.  Liszt  to  accept,  as  a  small  compensa- 
tion for  his  lost  time  with  the  princesses,  the  sum 
of  150  ducats.'  Liszt  handed  me  the  paper,  and 
with  a  silent  glance  I  interrogated  him  in  return. 
It  is  an  old  fact  that  the  soul  is  always  most 
clearly  reflected  in  homely  features,  and  I  dis- 
tinctly read  in  his  face  reconciliation  and  the 

25s 


FRANZ  LISZT 

kindest  feeling  again.  He  sat  down  and  wrote 
on  a  scrap  of  paper  with  pencil:  'Received  from 
the  Royal  Treasury  150  ducats  —  Franz  Liszt,' 
and  gave  it  to  the  servant  very  politely,  accom- 
panied by  another  rich  gift.  There  was  never 
afterward  any  further  allusion  to  the  affair. 

"The  price  of  admission  to  Liszt's  concerts 
was  unusually  high,  so  that  they  could  only  be 
frequented  by  the  wealthier  classes.  At  a  party 
the  conversation  fell  upon  the  subject,  and  it  was 
regretted  that  for  such  a  reason  many  teachers 
and  scholars,  in  spite  of  their  great  anxiety  to 
hear  the  great  master,  were  prevented  from  doing 
so.  I  told  Liszt  this,  and  he  answered:  'Well, 
arrange  a  concert  for  them,  only  charge  as  much 
or  as  little  as  you  think  proper,  and  let  me  know 
when  and  what  I  shall  play.  Immediately  a  com- 
mittee was  formed,  and  a  concert  for  teachers 
and  scholars  only  arranged,  to  which  the  price 
of  admission  amounted  to  only  18  kreutzers 
(about  sixpence).  Quantities  of  tickets  were 
sold,  and  immense  galleries  had  to  be  erected  in 
the  large  hall.  Liszt  viewed  with  delight  the 
juvenile  multitude,  whose  enthusiasm  knew  no 
bounds,  and  I  never  heard  him  play  more  beauti- 
fully. With  a  delighted  heart  he  stood  amid  a 
shower  of  flowers  which  thousands  of  little  hands 
were  strewing  for  him,  and  when  at  last  six  veri- 
table little  angels  approached  in  order  to  thank 
him,  he  embraced  them  with  tears  in  his  eyes  — 
not  heeding  the  fact  that  the  grown-up  people 
were  appropriating  his  gloves,  handkerchief,  and 
256 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

all  they  could  get  hold  of,  tearing  them  up  into 
a  thousand  bits  to  keep  in  remembrance  of  him. 
On  the  next  morning  we  brought  him  the  pro- 
ceeds of  the  concert  (nearly  i  ,000  florins) .  He  de- 
clared that  he  had  felt  happier  at  that  concert  than 
ever  before,  and  that  nothing  could  induce  him 
to  accept  the  money,  with  which  the  committee 
might  do  as  they  pleased,  and  if,  after  so  much 
delight,  they  did  not  wish  really  to  hurt  his  feel- 
ings he  would  beg  of  them  never  to  mention  that 
money  to  him  again.  It  was  appropriated  to  a 
Liszt  Fimd,  which  will  continue  to  exist  forever, 
and  a  poor  teacher's  son,  on  going  to  college,  is 
destined  to  receive  the  first  interest. 

"Liszt  was  once  at  my  house,  when  a  woman 
was  announced  to  whom  I  was  in  the  habit  of 
giving  quarterly  a  certain  sum  for  her  support. 
It  being  a  few  days  before  the  usual  time,  she  gave 
as  an  excuse  (it  was  November)  the  hard  times. 
While  providing  for  her  I  told  Liszt  in  an  under- 
tone that  she  was  an  honest  but  very  indigent 
widow  of  a  painter,  deceased  in  his  prime,  to 
whom  a  number  of  brother  artists  were  giving 
regular  contributions  in  order  to  enable  her  to 
get  along  with  her  two  small  children.  I  con- 
fess, while  telling  him  this,  I  hoped  that  Liszt, 
whose  liberality  and  willingness  to  do  good  had 
almost  become  proverbial,  would  ask  me  to  add 
something  in  his  name,  and  was,  therefore,  sur- 
prised to  see  him  apparently  indifferent,  for  he 
answered  nothing  and  continued  looking  down  in 
silence.    After  a  few  days,  however,  the  widow 

257 


FRANZ  LISZT 

reappeared,  her  heart  overflowing  with  thankful- 
ness and  her  eyes  filled  with  tears  of  joy,  for  she 
and  her  children  had  at  the  expense  of  a  man 
whose  name  she  was  not  permitted  to  know,  re- 
ceived beautiful  and  new  winter  clothing,  while 
kitchen  and  cellar  had  been  stored  with  every 
necessary  for  the  coming  winter.  Now  all  this 
had  been  arranged  by  the  landlady  of  a  certain 
hotel,  at  which  Liszt  was  then  stopping.  A  piano 
maker,  who  had  not  the  means  to  erect  a  factory, 
needed  but  to  convince  Liszt  of  his  rare  ability, 
and  immediately  he  had  at  his  command  over 
80,000  frs.  This  man  is  now  dead,  and  Liszt 
never  had  received  a  farthing  of  that  money 
back." 

GEORGE  ELIOT 

The  English  novelist  visited  Liszt  at  Weimar 
in  1854  and  records  some  pleasing  recollections: 

"About  the  middle  of  September  the  theatre 
opened.  We  went  to  hear  Emani.  Liszt  looked 
splendid  as  he  conducted  the  opera.  The  grand 
outline  of  his  face  and  floating  hair  was  seen  to 
advantage,  as  they  were  thrown  into  the  dark 
relief  by  the  stage  lamps.  Liszt's  conversation  is 
charming.  I  never  met  a  person  whose  manner  of 
telling  a  story  was  so  piquant.  The  last  even- 
ing but  one  that  he  called  on  us,  wishing  to  ex- 
press his  pleasure  in  G 's  article  about  him, 

he  very  ingeniously  conveyed  that  expression  in 

a  story  about  Spontini  and  Berlioz.     Spontini 

visited   Paris  while  Liszt  was  living  there  and 

258 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

haunted  the  opera  —  a  stiff,  self-important  per- 
sonage, with  high  shirt  collars  —  the  least  at- 
tractive individual  imaginable.  Liszt  turned  up 
his  own  collars  and  swelled  out  his  person,  so  as  to 
give  us  a  vivid  idea  of  the  man.  Every  one  would 
have  been  glad  to  get  out  of  Spontini's  way;  in- 
deed, elsewhere  'on  feignait  de  le  croire  mort'; 
but  at  Paris,  as  he  was  a  member  of  the  Institute, 
it  was  necessary  to  recognise  his  existence. 

"  Liszt  met  him  at  Erard's  more  than  once. 
On  one  of  these  occasions  Liszt  observed  to  him 
that  Berlioz  was  a  great  admirer  of  his  (Spon- 
tini),  whereupon  Spontini  burst  into  a  terrible 
invective  against  Berlioz  as  a  man  who,  with 
the  like  of  him,  was  ruining  art,  etc.  Shortly 
after  the  Vestale  was  performed  and  forthwith 
appeared  an  enthusiastic  article  by  Berlioz  on 
Spontini's  music.  The  next  time  Liszt  met  him 
of  the  high  collars  he  said:  'You  see  I  was  not 
wrong  in  what  I  said  about  Berlioz's  admiration 
of  you.'  Spontini  swelled  in  his  collars  and  re- 
plied, 'Monsieur,  Berlioz  a  du  talent  comma 
critique.'  Liszt's  replies  were  always  felicitous 
and  characteristic.  Talking  of  Madame  d  'Agoult 
he  told  us  that  when  her  novel,  Nelida,  appeared 
in  which  Liszt  himself  is  pilloried  as  a  delinquent, 
he  asked  her,  'Mais  pourquoi  avez-vous  telle- 
ment  maltraite  ce  pauvre  Lehmann?'  The  first 
time  we  were  asked  to  breakfast  at  his  house,  the 
Altenburg,  we  were  shown  into  the  garden,  where 
in  a  salon  formed  by  the  overarching  trees  de- 
jetiner  was  sent  out.     We  found  Hoffmann  von 

259 


FRANZ  LISZT 

Fallersleben,  the  lyric  poet,  Dr.  Schade,  a  Ge- 
lehrter,  and  Cornelius.  Presently  came  a  Herr 
or  Doctor  Raff,  a  musician,  who  had  recently 
published  a  volume  called  Wagnerfrage.  Soon 
after  we  were  joined  by  Liszt  and  the  Princess 
Marie,  an  elegant,  gentle-looking  giri  of  seven- 
teen, and  at  last  by  the  Princess  Wittgenstein, 
with  her  nephew,  Prince  Eugene,  and  a  young 
French  artist,  a  pupil  of  Scheffer. 

"  The  princess  was  tastefully  dressed  in  a  morn- 
ing robe  of  some  semi-transparent  white  material, 
lined  with  orange  colour,  which  formed  the  bord- 
ering and  ornament  of  the  sleeves,  a  black  lace 
jacket  and  a  piquant  cap  on  the  summit  of  her 
comb,  and  trimmed  with  violet  colour.  When 
the  cigars  came,  Hoffmann  was  requested  to  read 
some  of  his  poetry,  and  he  gave  us  a  bacchanalian 
poem  with  great  spirit.  I  sat  next  to  Liszt,  and 
my  great  delight  was  in  watching  him  and  in 
observing  the  sweetness  of  his  expression.  Ge- 
nius, benevolence,  and  tenderness  beam  from  his 
whole  countenance,  and  his  manners  are  in  per- 
fect harmony  with  it.  Then  came  the  thing  I  had 
longed  for  —  his  playing.  I  sat  near  him  so  that 
I  could  see  both  his  hands  and  face.  For  the 
first  time  in  my  life  I  beheld  real  inspiration  — 
for  the  first  time  I  heard  the  true  tones  of  the  pi- 
ano. He  played  one  of  his  own  compositions, 
one  of  a  series  of  religious  fantasies.  There  was 
nothing  strange  or  excessive  about  his  manner. 
His  manipulation  of  the  instrument  was  quiet 
and  easy,  and  his  face  was  simply  grand  —  the 
260 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

lips  compressed  and  the  head  thrown  a  little  back- 
ward. When  the  music  expressed  quiet  rapture 
or  devotion  a  smile  flitted  over  his  features;  when 
it  was  triumphant  the  nostrils  dilated.  There 
was  nothing  petty  or  egotistic  to  mar  the  picture. 
Why  did  not  Scheffer  paint  him  thus,  instead  of 
representing  him  as  one  of  the  three  Magi  ?  But 
it  just  occurs  to  me  that  Scheffer's  idea  was  a 
sublime  one.  There  are  the  two  aged  men  who 
have  spent  their  lives  in  trying  to  unravel  the 
destinies  of  the  world,  and  who  are  looking  for 
the  Deliverer  —  for  the  light  from  on  high.  Their 
young  fellow  seeker,  having  the  fresh  inspiration 
of  early  life,  is  the  first  to  discern  the  herald  star, 
and  his  ecstasy  reveals  it  to  his  companions.  In 
this  young  Magi  Scheffer  has  given  a  portrait  of 
Liszt;  but  even  here,  where  he  might  be  expected 
to  idealise  unrestrainedly,  he  falls  short  of  the 
original.  It  is  curious  that  Liszt's  face  is  the 
type  that  one  sees  in  all  Scheffer's  pictures  — 
at  least  in  all  I  have  seen. 

"In  a  little  room  which  terminates  the  suite 
at  the  Altenburg  there  is  a  portrait  of  Liszt,  also 
by  Scheffer  —  the  same  of  which  the  engraving 
is  familiar  to  every  one.  This  little  room  is  filled 
with  memorials  of  Liszt's  triumphs  and  the  wor- 
ship his  divine  talent  has  won.  It  was  arranged 
for  him  by  the  princess,  in  conjunction  with  the 
Arnims,  in  honour  of  his  birthday.  There  is  a 
medallion  of  him  by  Schwanthaler,  a  bust  by  an 
Italian  artist,  also  a  medallion  by  Rietschl  — 
very  fine  —  and  cabinets  full  of  jewels  and  pre- 
261 


FRANZ  LISZT 

cious  things  —  the  gifts  of  the  great.  In  the 
music  salon  stand  Beethoven's  and  Mozart's 
pianos.  Beethoven's  was  a  present  from  Broad- 
wood,  and  has  a  Latin  inscription  intimating  that 
it  was  presented  as  a  tribute  to  his  illustrious 
genius.  One  evening  Liszt  came  to  dine  with 
us  at  the  Erbprinz,  and  introduced  M.  Rubin- 
stein, a  young  Russian,  who  is  about  to  have  an 
opera  of  his  performed  at  Weimar." 

AN  ANONYMOUS  LADY  ADMIRER 

This  lady  relates  a  touching  incident  about 
Liszt  and  a  young  music  mistress: 

"Liszt  was  still  at  Weimar,  and  no  one  could 
venture  to  encroach  upon  his  scant  leisure  by  a 
letter  of  introduction.  I  saw  him  constantly  at 
the  mid-day  table  d'hdte.  His  strange,  impres- 
sive figure  as  he  sat  at  the  head  of  the  table  was 
a  sight  to  remember;  the  brilliant  eyes  that  flashed 
like  diamonds,  the  long  hair,  in  those  days  only 
iron  gray,  the  sensitive  mouth,  the  extraordi- 
nary play  of  expression,  once  seen,  could  never 
fade  from  memory.  Everything,  indeed,  about 
him  was  phenomenal  —  physiognomy,  appear- 
ance, mental  gifts;  last,  but  not  least,  amiability 
of  character  and  an  almost  morbid  terror  of  in- 
flicting pain.  This  characteristic,  of  course,  led 
him  into  many  embarrassments,  at  the  same  time 
into  the  committal  of  thousands  of  kind  actions; 
often  at  the  sacrifice  of  time,  peace  of  mind,  and, 
without  doubt,  intellectual  achievements. 
262 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

"  As  I  proposed  to  spend  some  months  at  Wei- 
mar, I  engaged  a  music  mistress,  one  of  Liszt's 
former  pupils,  whom  I  will  call  Fraulein  Marie. 
*  I  will  myself  introduce  you  to  the  Herr  Doctor,' 
she  said.  'To  his  pupils  he  refuses  nothing.' 
I  must  add  that  Fraulein  Marie  was  in  better 
circumstances  than  most  German  teachers  of 
music.  She  had,  I  believe,  some  small  means  of 
her  own,  and  belonged  to  a  very  well-to-do  fam- 
ily. The  poor  girl,  who  was,  as  I  soon  found  out, 
desperately  in  love  with  her  master,  got  up  a 
charming  little  fete  champetre  in  his  honour  and 
my  own.  A  carri-age  was  ordered,  picnic  bas- 
kets packed,  and  one  brilliant  summer  afternoon 
hostess  and  guests  started  for  Tieffurt.  The 
party  consisted  of  Liszt,  Fraulein  Marie,  a  vio- 
linist of  the  other  sex,  a  young  lady  pianist  from 
a  neighbouring  town,  and  myself.  Liszt's  geni- 
ality and  readiness  to  enter  into  the  spirit  of  the 
occasion  were  delightful  to  witness.  The  places 
of  honour  were  assigned  to  the  English  stranger 
and  the  violinist,  Liszt  insisting  on  seating  a  pupil 
on  each  side,  on  the  opposite  seat  of  the  carriage, 
not  in  the  least  disconcerted  by  such  narrow  ac- 
commodation. Thus,  chatting  and  laughing,  all 
of  us  in  holiday  mood,  we  reached  the  pretty  park 
and  chateau  of  Tieffurt. 

"  As  the  evening  was  cool,  we  supped  inside  the 
little  restaurant,  and  here  a  grievous  disappoint- 
ment awaited  our  hostess.  Tieffurt  is  celebrated 
for  its  trout;  indeed  this  delicacy  is  as  much  an 
attraction  to  many  visitors  as  its  literary  and  ar- 
263 


FRANZ  LISZT 

tistic  associations.  But  although  trout  had  been 
ordered  by  letter  beforehand  none  was  forthcom- 
ing wherewith  to  fete  the  Maestro.  Fraulein 
Marie  was  in  tears.  Liszt's  gaiety  and  affection, 
however,  put  everything  right.  He  cut  brown 
bread  and  butter  for  the  two  girls,  and  made  them 
little  sandwiches  with  the  excellent  cold  wurst. 
'Ah,  das  schmeckt  so  gut,'  they  cried,  as  they 
thanked  him  adoringly.  He  told  stories;  he 
made  the  rest  do  the  same.  'Erzahlen  von  Er- 
furt' (tell  us  Erfurt  news),  he  said  to  the  young 
lady  guest.  The  moments  passed  all  too  rapidly. 
Then  in  the  clear  delicious  twilight  we  drove  back 
to  Weimar,  his  pupils  kissing  his  hands  rever- 
entially as  he  quitted  us.  So  far  all  had  been 
bright,  joyous,  transparent;  but  I  soon  discov- 
ered that  this  charming  girl,  who  possessed  the 
vivacity  of  a  French  woman,  combined  with  the 
schwarmerei  or  sentimentality  of  a  Teutonic 
maiden,  was  rendered  deeply  unhappy  by  her 
love  for  Liszt. 

"He  was  at  that  time  enmeshed  in  the  toils 
of  another  and  far  less  guileless  passion.  Whilst 
to  his  gentle  and  innocent  pupil  he  could  accord 
only  the  affection  of  a  loving  and  sympathetic 
friend  and  master,  there  were  other  women  about 
him.  Fraulein  Marie's  hapless  sentiment  could 
never  discredit  either  herself  or  its  object,  but  it 
occasioned  a  good  deal  of  embarrassment  and 
wretchedness,  as  we  shall  sea  A  few  days  after 
this  gay  al  fresco  tea  she  came  to  me  in  great 
distress,  begging  me  forthwith  to  deliver  a  little 
264 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

note  into  the  master's  hand.  I  was  reluctantly 
obliged  to  delegate  the  delicate  mission  to  a  hired 
messenger.  Ill  would  it  have  become  a  stranger 
to  interfere  in  these  imbroglios.  Moreover,  at 
that  very  time  Liszt  had,  as  I  have  hinted,  a  love 
affair  on  his  hands  —  had,  in  fact,  momentarily 
succumbed  to  the  influence  of  one  of  those  women 
who  were  his  evil  genius.  Just  ten  years  later 
I  revisited  Weimar,  and  my  first  inquiry  of  com- 
mon friends  was  after  my  sweet  young  music 
mistress.  'Fraulein  Marie!  Alas!'  replied  my 
informant,  'the  poor  girl  has  long  been  in  a 
maison  de  sant^.'  Her  love  for  Liszt  ended  in 
loss  of  reason." 

LADY  BLANCHE  MURPHY 

Lady  Blanche  gives  an  interesting  account  of 
Liszt's  sojourn  at  the  Monastery  on  Monte  Mario 
in  1862,  shortly  after  he  became  an  abb^  of  the 
Roman  Catholic  Church.  After  describing  the 
scenery  of  the  place  she  says:  "Here  Liszt  had 
taken  up  his  abode,  renting  two  bare  white- 
walled  rooms  for  the  summer,  where  he  looked 
far  more  at  home  than  among  the  splendours  of 
the  prelate's  reception  room  or  the  feminine  ele- 
gancies of  the  princess'  boudoir.  He  seemed  hap- 
pier, too  —  more  cheerful,  and  light-hearted.  He 
said  he  meant  to  be  a  hermit  this  summer,  and 
the  good  Dominican  lay  brother  attended  to  all 
his  creature  comforts,  while  he  could  solace  him- 
self by  hearing  the  daily  mass  said  in  the  early 
265 


FRANZ  LISZT 

morning  in  the  little  chapel,  into  which  he  could 
step  at  any  moment.  His  piano  stood  in  one 
comer  of  his  little  cell,  his  writing  table  was  piled 
with  books  and  music,  and  besides  these  there 
was  nothing  of  interest  in  the  room.  The  win- 
dow looked  out  upon  one  of  the  most  glorious 
views  of  the  world.  Here  Liszt  seemed  quite 
another  being.  He  talked  gaily,  and  suddenly 
started  up,  volunteering  to  play  for  us  —  a  thing, 
many  of  his  best  friends  said,  they  had  not  known 
him  do  for  years. 

"It  was  all  his  own,  yet,  though  peculiar,  the 
sound  did  not  resemble  the  sobbing  music,  the 
weird  chords,  his  fingers  had  drawn  forth  from 
the  keys  as  he  played  among  conventional  peo- 
ple in  conventional  evening  gatherings.  There 
was  a  freshness,  a  springiness,  in  to-day's  per- 
formance which  suited  the  place  and  hour,  and 
that  visit  to  the  hermit-artist  was  indeed  a  fitting 
leave-taking  for  us  who  were  so  entranced  with 
his  pure,  strong  genius.  Still,  the  artist  had  not 
forgotten  to  initiate  us  into  one  of  the  secrets  of 
his  simple  retreat.  The  Dominicans  of  some 
remote  mountain  convent  had  kindly  sent  him 
a  present  of  some  wonderful  liqueur  —  one  of 
those  impossible  beverages  associated  in  one's 
mind  with  Hebe's  golden  cups  of  flowing  nectar, 
rather  than  with  any  commonplace  drink.  Liszt 
insisted  upon  our  tasting  this:  green  Chartreuse 
was  nothing  to  it  and  we  sc-arcely  did  more  than 
taste.  And  this  was  the  last  time  we  saw  him, 
this  king-artist.  It  was  a  great  privilege,  and 
266 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

perhaps  he,  of  all  living  artists  we  had  come 
across,  is  the  only  one  who  could  not  disappoint 
one's  ideal  of  him." 

KARL  KIRKENBUHL 

This  author,  in  his  Federzeichnungen  aus 
Rom,  describes  a  visit  to  Liszt  in  1867 : 

"The  building  in  which  Liszt  resides  in  Rome 
is  of  unpretending  appearance;  it  is,  and  fancy 
may  have  pictured  such  a  place  as  Liszt's  *Sans 
Souci,'  a  melancholy,  plain  little  monastery.  But 
by  its  position  this  quiet  abode  is  so  favoured 
that  probably  few  homes  in  the  wide  world  can 
be  compared  to  it.  Situated  upon  the  old  Via 
Sacra,  it  is  the  nearest  neighbour  of  the  Forum 
Romanum,  while  its  windows  look  toward  the 
Capitol,  the  ruins  of  the  Palatine  Palace  and  the 
Colosseum.  In  such  a  situation  a  life  of  con- 
templation is  forced  upon  one.  I  mounted  a  few 
steps  leading  to  the  open  door  of  the  monastery, 
and  all  at  once  grew  uncertain  what  to  do,  for  I 
saw  before  me  a  handsome  staircase  adorned  with 
pillars,  such  as  I  should  not  have  expected  from 
the  poor  exterior  of  the  building.  Had  not  a 
notice  in  the  form  of  a  visiting-card  over  the  large 
door  at  the  top  of  the  stairs  met  my  eye,  I  should 
have  considered  it  necessary  to  make  further  in- 
quiries. As  it  was,  however,  I  was  able  to  gain 
from  the  card  itself  the  information  I  needed. 
I  approached  and  read:  'L'Abbd  Franz  Liszt.' 
So,  really  an  Abbe!  A  visiting-card  half  supplies 
267 


FRANZ  LISZT 

the  place  of  an  autopsy.  After  I  arranged  my 
necktie  and  pulled  on  my  gloves  more  tightly, 
I  courageously  grasped  the  green  cord  that  sum- 
moned the  porter.  Two  servants,  not  in  tail 
coat,  it  is  true,  but  clad  in  irreproachable  black, 
received  me;  one  hastened  to  carry  in  my  card, 
while  the  other  helped  me  off  with  my  topcoat. 

"My  ideas  of  a  genuine  monkish  life  suffered 
a  rude  shock.  Wherefore  two  servants  before 
the  cell  of  a  monk;  or  if  attendant  spirits,  why 
were  they  not,  according  to  monastic  rules,  sim- 
ply lay  brothers  ? 

"  But  I  had  not  long  to  puzzle  my  brains  with 
these  obtrusive  questions,  for  I  was  presently 
plunged  into  still  greater  mental  confusion.  The 
messenger  who  had  gone  to  announce  me  re- 
turned and  ushered  me  in  with  a  notification  that 
Signor  Abbate  requested  me  to  await  a  moment 
in  —  the  drawing-room !  Yes,  actually  a  draw- 
ing-room, in  the  most  elegant  acceptation  of  the 
word.  It  wanted  nothing  either  of  the  requi- 
sites for  northern  comfort  or  of  the  contrivances 
demanded  by  the  climate  of  Rome,  though  gla- 
ring luxury  appeared  scrupulously  avoided. 

"I  stood  then  in  the  saloon  of  the  Commen- 
datore  Liszt!  Abbe  and  Commander!  The  cor- 
rect employment  of  the  domestic  titles  rendered 
the  first  interview  much  more  easy  than  it  oth- 
erwise would  have  been.  I  was  by  no  means  so 
inquisitorial  in  my  survey  as  to  be  able  to  give 
a  Walter  Scott-like  description  of  Liszt's  salon. 
Darkness,  moreover,  prevailed  in  the  large  apart- 
268 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

ment,  as,  according  to  Italian  usage  and  neces- 
sity, the  window  shutters  were  closed  against  the 
rays  of  the  morning  sun.  I  was  attracted  by 
the  album  table  in  the  middle  of  the  apartment 
more  than  aught  else.  Upon  it  lay  chiefly  Italian 
works  of  a  religious  nature  in  votive  bindings. 
That  Liszt  here,  too,  as  Abbate,  lives  in  the  midst 
of  creative  spirits  is  proved  by  these  dedicatory 
offerings. 

"The  door  was  opened  and  the  well-known 
artistic  figure  advanced  in  a  friendly  manner 
toward  me.  That  the  skilful  fingers  of  the  great 
pianist  pressed  the  hand  of  me,  a  simple  writer, 
is  a  fact,  which,  for  the  completeness  of  my  nar- 
rative, must  not  remain  unmentioned.  The  first 
and  most  immediate  impression  produced  on 
me  by  Liszt's  appearance  was  that  of  surpris- 
ing youthfulness.  Even  the  unmistakably  griz- 
zling, though  still  thick,  long,  flowing  hair, 
which  the  scissors  of  the  tonsure  have  not 
dared  to  touch,  detracts  but  little  from  the 
heart  entrancing  charm  of  his  unusual  indi- 
viduality. Of  fretfulness,  satiety,  monkish  ab- 
negation, and  so  on,  there  is  not  a  trace  to 
be  detected  in  the  feature  of  Liszt's  interest- 
ing and  characteristic  head.  And  just  as  lit- 
tle as  we  find  Liszt  in  a  monk's  cell  do  we  find 
him  in  a  monk's  cowl.  The  black  soutane  sits 
no  less  elegantly  on  him  than,  in  its  time,  the 
dress  coat.  Those  who  look  upon  Liszt  as  a 
riddle  will  most  decidedly  not  find  the  solution 
of  it  in  his  outward  appearance. 
269 


FRANZ  LISZT 

"  After  interchanging  a  few  words  of  greeting, 
we  proceeded  to  the  workroom.  After  compel- 
ling me  to  take  an  arm-chair^  Liszt  seated  himself 
at  the  large  writing-table,  apologising  to  me  by 
stating  that  he  had  a  letter  to  despatch  in  a  hurry. 
Upon  this,  too,  lay  a  great  many  things,  nearly  all 
pertaining  more  to  the  Abbd  than  the  artist.  But 
neatly  written  sheets  of  music  showed  that  musi- 
cal production  formed  part  of  the  master's  daily 
occupations.  The  comfortable  room  bore  gener- 
ally the  unmistakable  stamp  of  a  room  for  study, 
of  an  artist's  workshop.  The  letter  and  the  ad- 
dress were  quickly  finished,  and  handed  to  the 
attendant  to  seal  and  transmit.  I  mentioned  the 
report  connecting  his  approaching  journey  with 
the  grand  festival  of  joy  and  peace,  the  Corona- 
tion in  Hungary.  The  popular  maestro  took  this 
opportunity  of  giving  me  a  detailed  history  of  his 
Coronation  Mass.  He  said  that  in  the  Prince- 
Primate  Scitovsky  he  had  possessed  a  most  kind 
patron.  In  course  of  a  joyous  repast,  as  on 
many  other  occasions,  the  Prelate  had  given  lively 
and  hopeful  utterance  to  the  wish  of  his  heart 
that  he  might  yet  be  able  to  place  the  crown 
upon  the  head  of  his  beloved  king,  and  at  the 
same  time  he  called  upon  Liszt,  in  an  unusually 
flattering  and  cordial  manner,  to  compose  the 
Coronation  Mass,  but  it  must  be  short,  very  short, 
as  the  entire  ceremony  would  take  about  six 
hours. 

"Liszt  was  unable  to  resist  this  amiable  re- 
quest, he  said,  and,  drinking  a  glass  of  fiery 

270 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

Tokay,  gave  a  promise  that  he  would  endeavour 
to  produce  some  'Essence  of  Tokay.'  After  his 
return  to  Rome  he  immediately  set  about  the 
sketch.  But  the  prospect  of  the  desired  agree- 
ment between  the  Emperor  and  the  Hungarians 
had,  meanwhile,  become  overcast,  and  his  work 
remained  a  mere  sketch.  Some  months  ago, 
however,  he  was  pressed  by  his  Hungarian  friends 
to  proceed,  and  so  he  finished  the  mass.  It  was 
a  question  whether  it  would  be  performed  on  the 
day  of  the  Coronation,  since  there  was  a  condi- 
tion that  the  monarch  should  bring  his  own 
orchestra  with  him.  Liszt  said  he  was  per- 
fectly neutral,  and  in  no  way  wished  to  run 
counter  to  the  just  ambition  of  others;  for, 
however  the  Ahh6  might  be  decried  as  ambi- 
tious, he  added,  with  a  smile,  he  was  not  so 
after  all." 

In  course  of  this  open-hearted  statement  Liszt 
touched  upon  his  relations  to  the  present  Prince- 
Primate  of  Hungary,  and  let  fall  a  remark  which 
is  the  more  interesting  because  it  throws  a  light 
upon  his  position  in  and  toward  Rome.  The 
Abbd-Maestro  said  then  that  he  had  entered 
on  a  correspondence  regarding  his  retirement 
from  the  diocese  of  the  Prince  of  the  Church, 
who  had  in  the  interim  been  raised  to  the  dignity 
of  Primate,  and  had  every  reason  to  believe  that 
he  enjoyed  the  Prelate's  favour.  He  needed, 
however,  a  special  letter  of  dismissal  in  order  to 
be  received  into  the  personal  lists  of  the  Roman 
271 


FRANZ  LISZT 

clergy;    to  this  Liszt  remarked,  parenthetically, 
were  limited  all  his  clerical  qualities. 

"I  do  not  know  more  exactly  what  rights  and 
duties  are  connected  with  the  insertion  of  his 
name  in  the  catalogue  of  the  Roman  clergy, 
though  it  appears  that  the  nexus  into  which  Liszt 
has  entered  toward  the  clerical  world  is  rather 
an  outward  than  a  deep  and  inward  one. 

"The  cigar,  which  did  not  look,  between  the 
lips  of  the  great  musician,  as  if  it  had  been  treated 
with  particular  gentleness  or  care,  had  gone  out. 
Liszt  got  up  to  reach  the  matches.  While  he  was 
again  lighting  the  narcotic  weed  he  directed  my 
attention  to  the  pretty  statuette  of  St.  Elisabeth, 
which  had  attracted  my  gaze  when  I  entered  the 
room.  It  represents  the  kind-hearted  Landgra- 
vine at  the  moment  the  miracle  of  roses  is  tak- 
ing place.  It  required  no  great  power  of  com- 
bination to  connect  this  graceful  form,  as  an  ova- 
tional  gift,  with  Liszt's  oratorio  of  St.  Elisabeth. 
The  popular  master  named  the  German  hand 
which  had  fashioned  the  marble  and  offered  it 
to  him.  He  was  thus  led  to  speak  of  his  orato- 
rio, and  of  the  Wartburg  Festival,  for  which  it  was 
originally  intended,  and  at  which  it  was  given, 
but  not  until  after  Hungary  had  enjoyed  the  first 
performance.  He  spoke  also  of  what  he  had 
done  at  the  Grand  Ducal  Court.  I  was  pecu- 
liarly touched  by  his  reminiscences,  how  he  had 
entered  the  service  of  a  German  prince,  how  he 
had  'knocked  about'  for  several  years  at  Wei- 
272 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

mar,  'without  doing  anything  worth  naming.* 
how  his  Prince  had  respected  and  distinguished 
him,  and  had  probably  never  suspected  that  a 
permanent  sojourn  could  result  from  Liszt's  trip 
to  Rome. 

"Here,  where  he  moved  in  only  a  small  circle 
—  said  Liszt,  with  marked  emphasis,  and  again 
referring  to  the  importance  Rome  possessed  for 
him  —  here  he  found  the  long  desired  leisure  for 
work.  His  Elisabeth,  he  said,  had  here  sprung 
into  existence,  and  also  his  oratorio  of  Petrus. 
He  had,  moreover,  he  remarked,  notions  which 
it  would  take  him  three  years  of  thorough  hard 
work  to  carry  out. 

"He  certainly  knew,  the  Abbe-Maestro  con- 
tinued, referring  to  his  art-gospel,  that  here  and 
there  things  which  in  other  places  had  met  with 
some  response  had  been  hissed,  but  he  had  no 
more  hope  for  applause  than  he  feared  censure. 
He  followed,  he  said,  the  path  he  considered  the 
right  one,  and  could  say  that  he  had  consistently 
pursued  the  direction  he  had  once  taken.  The 
only  rule  he  adopted  in  the  production  of  his 
works,  as  far  as  he  had  full  power,  was  that 
of  not  compromising  his  friends  or  of  exposing 
them  to  the  disfavour  of  the  public.  Solely  for 
this  reason  he  had  thought  it  incumbent  on  him, 
for  instance,  to  refuse  to  send  a  highly  esteemed 
colleague  the  score  of  his  Elisabeth,  in  spite  of 
two  applications. 

"I  expressed  to  my  friendly  host  my  delight 
at  his  good  health  and  vigour,  prognosticating 

273 


FRANZ  LISZT 

a  long  continuance  of  fruitful  activity.  'Oh! 
yes,  I  am  quite  satisfied  with  my  state  of  health,' 
answered  the  master,  'though  my  legs  will  no 
longer  render  me  their  old  service.'  At  the  same 
time,  in  an  access  of  boisterous  merriment,  he 
gave  the  upper  part  of  his  right  thigh  so  hard  a 
slap  that  I  could  not  consider  his  regret  particu- 
larly sincere. 

"Another  of  my  remarks  was  directed  to  the 
incomparable  site  of  his  abode,  which  alone  might 
make  a  middling  poet  produce  great  epic  or  ele- 
giac poetry.  'I  live  quietly  and  agreeably,'  was 
the  reply,  'both  here  and  at  Monte  Mario,  where 
there  are  a  few  rooms  at  my  service,  with  a  splen- 
did view  over  the  city,  the  Tiber  and  the  hills.' 
And  not  to  remain  my  debtor  for  the  ocular  proof 
of  what  he  said,  at  least  as  far  as  regarded  his 
town  residence,  he  opened  a  window  and  gazed 
silently  with  me  on  the  overpowering  seriousness 
of  the  ruined  site. 

"  The  amiable  maestro  then  conducted  me  rap- 
idly through  two  smaller  rooms,  one  of  which  was 
his  simple  bed-chamber,  to  a  wooden  outhouse 
with  a  small  window,  through  which  were  to  be 
seen  the  Colosseum,  in  all  its  gigantic  proportions, 
and  the  triumphal  arch  of  Constantine  close  by, 
overtowered  by  Mount  Coelius,  now  silent. 

"  *  A  splendid  balcony  might  be  erected  here,' 
observed  Liszt,  'but  the  poor  Franciscan  monk 
has  no  money  for  such  a  purpose ! ' 

"Having  returned  to  his  study,  I  thought  the 
time  had  arrived  for  bringing  my  first  visit  to  a 
274 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

termination.  The  thanks  conveyed  in  my  words 
on  taking  leave  were  warm  and  sincere.  I  car- 
ried with  me  out  of  that  quiet  dwelling  the  convic- 
tion that  in  Liszt  the  true  artist  far  outweighs  the 
virtuoso  and  the  monk,  and  that  only  such  per- 
sons as  formerly  snobbishly  shook  their  heads 
because  Winkelmann  took  service  and  found  an 
asylum  with  a  cardinal,  can  scoff  and  make  small 
jokes  on  Liszt's  cell  and  monkish  cowl." 

B.  W.  H. 

An  American  lady  who  signs  herself  "B.  W. 
H.,"  and  wrote  some  reminiscences  of  the  great 
musician  at  Weimar  in  1877,  calls  her  contribu- 
tion An  Hour  Passed  with  Liszt: 

"How  much  more  some  of  us  get  than  we  de- 
serve! A  pleasure  has  come  to  us  unsought. 
It  came  knocking  at  our  door  seeking  entrance 
and  we  simply  did  not  turn  it  away.  It  happened 
in  this  fashion:  A  friend  had  been  visiting  Liszt 
in  Weimar  and  happened  to  mention  us  to  the 
great  master,  who  promised  us  a  gracious  re- 
ception should  we  ever  appear  there.  To  Wei- 
mar then  we  came,  and  the  gracious  reception 
we  certainly  had,  to  our  satisfaction  and  lasting 
remembrance. 

"After  sending  our  cards,  and  receiving  per- 
mission to  present  ourselves  at  an  appointed  and 
early  hour,  we  drove  to  the  small,  cosy  house  oc- 
cupied by  Liszt  when  here,  on  the  outskirts  of  the 
garden  of  the  Duke  of  Saxe- Weimar,  and  were 

275 


FRANZ  LISZT 

ushered  by  his  Italian  valet  into  a  comfortable, 
cosy,  home-like  apartment,  where  we  sat  await- 
ing the  great  man's  appearance.  Wide  case- 
ments opened  upon  a  stretch  of  lawn  and  noble 
old  trees;  easy-chairs  and  writing-tables;  MS. 
music,  with  the  pen  lying  carelessly  beside  it; 
masses  of  music  piled  up  on  the  floor,  a  row  of 
books  there,  too;  a  grand  piano  and  an  upright 
one;  a  low  dish  of  roses  on  the  table;  a  carpet, 
which  is  not  taken  for  granted  here  as  with  us — 
altogether  the  easy,  friendly  look  of  a  cottage 
drawing-room  at  home,  where  people  have  a 
happy  use  of  pleasant  things. 

"  He  entered  the  room  after  a  few  minutes  and 
greeted  us  with  a  charming  amiability,  for  which 
we  inwardly  blessed  the  absent  friend.  Of  course 
everybody  knows  how  he  looks  —  tall,  thin,  with 
long  white  hair;  a  long,  black,  robe-like  coat, 
being  an  abbe;  long,  slight,  sensitive  hands;  a 
manner  used  to  courts,  and  a  smile  and  grace  rare 
in  a  man  approaching  seventy.  He  spoke  of 
Anna  Mehlig,  and  of  several  young  artists  just 
beginning  their  career,  whom  we  personally 
know.  Very  graciously  he  mentioned  Miss  Ce- 
cilia Gaul,  of  Baltimore;  spoke  kindly  of  Miss 
Anna  Bock,  one  of  the  youngest  and  most  diligent 
of  artists,  and  most  forcibly  perhaps  of  Carl  Her- 
mann, like  Anna  Mehlig,  a  pupil  in  the  Stuttgart 
Conservatory,  'There  is  something  in  the  young 
man,'  he  said  with  emphasis.  So  he  chatted  in 
the  most  genial  way  of  things  great  and  small, 
as  if  he  were  not  one  of  the  world's  geniuses,  and 
276 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

we  two  little  insignificant  nobodies  sitting  be- 
fore him,  overcome  with  a  consciousness  of  his 
greatness  and  our  nothingness,  yet  quite  happy 
and  at  ease,  as  every  one  must  be  who  comes 
within  the  sphere  of  his  gracious  kindliness. 

"Suddenly  he  rose  and  went  to  his  writing- 
table,  and,  with  one  of  his  long,  sweet  smiles, 
so  attractive  in  a  man  of  his  age  —  but  why 
shouldn't  a  man  know  how  to  smile  long,  sweet 
smiles  who  has  had  innumerable  thrilling  roman- 
tic experiences  with  the  sex  that  has  always 
adored  him  ?  —  he  took  a  bunch  of  roses  from  a 
glass  on  his  table  and  brought  it  to  us.  Whether 
to  kiss  his  hand  or  fall  on  our  knees  we  did  not 
quite  know;  but,  America  being  less  given  than 
many  lands  to  emotional  demonstration,  we 
smiled  back  with  composure,  and  appeared,  no 
doubt,  as  if  we  were  accustomed  from  earliest 
youth  to  distinguished  marks  of  favour  from  the 
world's  great  ones. 

"But  the  truth  is  we  were  not.  And  these 
roses  which  stood  on  Liszt's  writing-table  by  his 
MS.  music,  presented  by  the  hand  that  has  made 
him  famous,  are  already  pressing  and  will  be  kept 
among  our  penates,  except  one,  perhaps,  that  will 
be  distributed  leaf  by  leaf  to  hero-worshipping 
friends,  with  date  and  appropriate  inscriptions 
on  the  sheet  where  it  rests.  How  amiable  he  was, 
indeed!  The  roses  were  much,  but  something 
was  to  come.  The  Meister  played  to  us.  For 
this  we  had  not  even  dared  to  hope  during  our 
first  visit.  No  one,  of  course,  ever  asks  him  to 
277 


FRANZ  LISZT 

play,  and  whether  he  does  or  not  depends  wholly 
on  his  mood.  It  was  beautiful  to  sit  there  close 
by  him,  the  soft  lawns  and  trees,  framed  by  the 
open  casement,  making  a  background  for  the 
tall  figure,  the  long,  peculiar  hands  wandering 
over  the  keys,  the  face  full  of  intellect  and  power. 
And  how  he  smiles  as  he  plays!  We  fancied  at 
first  in  our  own  simplicity  that  he  was  smiling 
at  us,  but  later  it  seemed  merely  the  music  in  his 
soul  illuminating  his  countenance.  His  whole 
face  changes  and  gleams,  and  grows  majestic, 
revealing  the  master-spirit  as  his  hands  caress 
while  they  master  the  keys.  With  harrowing  ex- 
periences of  the  difficulty  of  Liszt's  compositions, 
we  anticipated,  as  he  began,  something  that 
would  thunder  and  crash  and  teach  us  what 
pigmies  we  were;  but  as  an  exquisitely  soft  mel- 
ody filled  the  room,  and  tones  came  like  whispers 
to  our  hearts,  and  a  theme  drawn  with  a  tender, 
magical  touch  brought  pictures  and  dreams  of 
the  past  before  us,  we  actually  forgot  where  we 
were,  forgot  that  the  white-haired  man  was  the 
famous  Liszt,  forgot  to  speak  as  the  last  faint 
chord  died  away,  and  sat  in  utter  silence,  quite 
lost  to  our  surroundings,  with  unseeing  eyes  gaz- 
ing out  through  the  casement. 

"At  last  he  rose,  took  our  hands  kindly, and 
said,  'That  is  how  I  play  when  I  am  suffering 
from  a  cold  as  at  present.'  We  asked  if  he  had 
been  improvising,  or  if  what  he  played  was  al- 
ready printed.  'It  was  only  a  little  nocturne,' 
he  said.  '  It  sounded  like  a  sweet  remembrance.' 
278 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

'And  was  that,'  he  replied  cordially.  Then  fear- 
ing to  disturb  him  too  long,  and  feeling  we  had 
been  crowned  with  favours,  we  made  our  adieux, 
receiving  a  kind  invitation  to  come  the  following 
day  and  hear  the  young  artists  who  cluster  around 
him  here,  some  of  whom  he  informed  us  played 
*  famos.'  And  after  we  had  left  him  he  followed 
us  out  to  the  stairway  to  repeat  his  invitation  and 
say  another  gracious  word  or  two.  And  we  went 
off  to  drive  through  Weimar,  and  only  half  ob- 
served its  pleasant  homely  streets,  its  flat,  unin- 
teresting, yet  friendly  aspect,  its  really  charming 
park  —  so  Lisztified  we  were,  as  a  friend  calls 
our  state  of  mind.  The  place  has,  indeed,  little 
to  charm  the  stranger  now,  except  the  memories 
of  Goethe  and  Schiller  and  all  the  famous  literary 
stars  who  once  made  it  glorious,  and  the  presence 
of  Liszt." 

The  lives  of  musicians  are,  in  general,  so  de- 
void of  extraordinary  incident,  that  the  relation 
of  them  is  calculated  more  to  instruct  than  amuse. 

That  of  Liszt,  however,  was  an  exception  to  the 
rule.  His  adventures  seemed  to  have  been  so 
many  and  so  various  as  almost  to  encourage  a 
belief  that  in  describing  them  his  literary  ad- 
mirers often  used  the  pen  of  romance. 

The  last  letter  that  Liszt  indited  with  his  own 
pen  is  addressed  to  Frau  Sofie  Menter,  and  is 
dated  Bayreuth,  July  3,  1886.  What  proved  to 
be  almost  a  death-bed  epistle  runs  as  follows : 

"To-morrow,  after  the  religious  marriage  of 
my  granddaughter  Daniela  von  Bulow  to  Pro- 
279 


FRANZ  LISZT 

fessor  Henry  Thode  (art-historian),  I  betake  my- 
self to  my  excellent  friends  the  Munkacsys,  Cha- 
teau Colpach,  Grand  Duchy  of  Luxemburg.  On 
the  20th  July  I  shall  be  back  here  again  for  the 
first  7-8  performances  of  the  Festspiel;  then  alas! 
I  must  put  myself  under  the,  to  me,  very  disa- 
greeable cure  at  Kissingen,  and  in  September  an 
operation  for  the  eyes  is  impending  for  me  with 
Grafe  at  Halle.  For  a  month  past  I  have  been 
quite  unable  to  read,  and  almost  unable  to  write, 
with  much  labour,  a  couple  of  lines.  Two  sec- 
retaries kindly  help  me  by  reading  to  me  and  writ- 
ing letters  at  my  dictation.  How  delightful  it 
would  be  to  me,  dear  friend,  to  visit  you  at  your 
fairy  castle  at  Itter!  But  I  do  not  see  any  op- 
portunity of  doing  so  at  present.  Perhaps  you 
will  come  to  Bayreuth,  where,  from  July  20th  to 
the  7th  August,  will  be  staying  your  sincere 
friend  F.  Liszt." 

The  master  was  spared  the  infliction  of  the 
cure  he  dreaded  at  Kissingen,  and  Frau  Menter 
did  not  meet  him  at  Bayreuth,  for  on  July  31st 
Liszt  died,  what  to  him  must  have  been  a  pleas- 
ant death,  after  witnessing  the  greatest  work 
of  the  poet-composer  whom  he  had  done  so  much 
to  befriend  —  Richard  Wagner's  Tristan  und 
Isolde. 


280 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 


ERNEST  LEGOUVE 

"I  am  about  to  make  a  very  bold  profession  of 
faith  —  I  adore  the  piano!  All  the  jests  at  its 
expense,  all  the  anathemas  that  are  heaped  upon 
it,  are  as  revolting  to  me  as  so  many  acts  of  in- 
gratitude, I  might  say  as  so  many  absurdities. 

"To  me  the  piano  is  one  of  the  domestic  lares, 
one  of  our  household  gods.  It  is,  thanks  to  it, 
and  it  alone,  that  we  have  for  ourselves  and  in 
our  homes  the  most  poetic  and  the  most  personal 
of  all  the  arts  —  music.  What  is  it  that  brings 
into  our  dwellings  an  echo  of  the  Conservatory 
concerts?  What  is  it  that  gives  us  the  opera  at 
our  own  firesides?  What  is  it  that  unites  four, 
five  or  six  harmonious  voices  in  the  interpreta- 
tion of  a  masterpiece  of  vocal  music,  as  the  trio 
of  Don  Juan,  the  quartet  of  Moses,  or  the  finale 
of  the  Barber  of  Seville?  The  piano,  and  the 
piano  alone.  Were  the  piano  to  be  abolished 
how  could  you  have  the  exquisite  joy  of  hearing 
Faure  in  your  own  chamber  ?  I  say  Faure,  but 
I  might  say  Taffanel,  Gillet,  all  the  instrumental- 
ists, for  all  instruments  are  its  tributaries.  They 
all  have  need  of  it;  it  alone  needs  none. 

"Auber  said  to  me  one  day:  'What  I  admire, 
perhaps,  most  in  Beethoven  are  some  of  his  so- 
natas, because  in  them  his  thought  shows  clearly 
in  all  its  pure  beauty,  unencumbered  by  the  orna- 
ments of  orchestral  riches.'  But  for  what  in- 
strument were  the  sonatas  of  Beethoven  com- 
281 


FRANZ  LISZT 

posed  ?  For  the  piano.  I  cannot  forget  that  the 
entire  work  of  Chopin  was  written  for  the  piano. 
Besides,  it  is  the  confidant  of  the  man  of  genius, 
of  all  that  he  does  not  write.  Ah!  if  the  piano 
of  Weber  might  repeat  what  the  author  of  Der 
Freischiitz  has  spoken  to  it  alone!  And,  great- 
est superiority  of  all,  the  piano  is  of  all  the  in- 
struments the  only  one  that  is  progressive. 

"A  Stradivarius  and  an  Amati  remain  superior 
to  all  the  violins  of  to-day,  and  it  is  not  certain 
that  the  horn,  the  flute  and  the  hautbois  have  not 
lost  as  much  as  they  have  gained  with  all  the 
present  superabundance  of  keys  and  pistons. 
The  piano  only  has  always  gained  in  its  trans- 
formations, and  every  one  of  its  enlargements, 
adding  something  to  its  power  of  expression,  has 
enabled  it  to  improve  even  the  interpretation  of 
the  old  masters, 

"  One  day  when  Thalberg  was  playing  at  my 
home  a  sonata  of  Mozart  on  a  Pleyel  piano,  Ber- 
lioz said  to  me:  *Ah!  if  Mozart  were  with  us, 
he  would  hear  his  admirable  andante  as  he  sung 
it  to  himself  in  his  breast!' 

"One  of  my  most  precious  musical  memories  is, 
then,  to  have  not  only  known  but  to  have  associ- 
ated with  and  to  have  enjoyed  in  intimacy  the 
three  great  triumvirs  of  the  piano  —  Liszt,  Thal- 
berg, and  Chopin.  The  arrival  of  Thalberg  in 
Paris  was  a  revelation,  I  could  willingly  say  a  rev- 
olution. I  know  only  Paganini,  whose  appear- 
ance produced  the  same  melange  of  enthusiasm 
and  astonishment.  Both  excited  the  same  feel- 
282 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

ing  that  one  experiences  in  the  presence  of  the 
unknown,  the  mysterious,  the  unexplainable. 
I  attended  Paganini's  first  concert  (it  was  at  the 
Opera)  in  company  with  De  Beriot.  De  Beriot 
held  in  his  hand  a  oopy  of  the  piece  that  Paganini 
was  to  play.  'This  man  is  a  charlatan,'  he  said 
to  me,  *he  cannot  execute  what  is  printed  here, 
because  it  is  not  executable.'  Paganini  began. 
I  listened  to  the  music  and  watched  De  Beriot  at- 
tentively. All  at  once  he  exclaimed  to  himself, 
*Ah!  the  rascal,  I  understand!  He  has  modi- 
fied the  tuning  of  his  instrument.' 

''There  was  a  hke  surprise  at  Thalberg's  first 
concert.  It  was  at  the  Th^^tre  des  Italiens,  in 
the  daytime,  in  the  public  foyer.  I  attended  in 
company  with  Julius  Benedict,  who  was,  it  was 
said,  Weber's  only  piano  pupil.  I  shall  never 
forget  his  stupefaction,  his  amazement.  Lean- 
ing feverishly  toward  the  instrument,  to  which 
we  were  very  near,  his  eyes  fastened  upon  those 
fingers  that  seemed  to  him  like  so  many  ma- 
gicians, he  could  hardly  believe  his  eyes  or  his 
ears.  For  him,  as  De  Beriot,  there  had  been  in 
the  printed  works  of  Thalberg  something  which 
he  could  not  explain.  Only  the  secret  this  time 
was  not  in  the  instrument,  but  in  the  performer. 
It  was  not  this  time  the  strings  that  were  changed, 
it  was  the  fingers. 

"A  new  method  of  fingering  enabled  Thalberg 

to  cause  the  piano  to  express  what  it  had  never 

expressed  before.     Benedict's  emotion  was  all 

the  more  intense  that  the  poor  fellow  chanced  to 

283 


FRANZ  LISZT 

be  in  a  very  unique  frame  of  mind  and  heart. 
His  young  wife,  whom  he  worshipped,  had  de- 
parted that  morning  to  join  her  parents  at  Naples. 
The  separation  was  to  last  only  for  less  than  six 
months,  but  he  was  profoundly  sad,  and  it  was 
to  distract  his  mind  that  I  had  taken  him  to  the 
concert.  But  once  there,  there  took  place  in 
him  the  strangest  amalgamation  of  the  husband 
and  the  pianist.  At  once  despairing  and  en- 
chanted, he  reminded  me  of  the  man  in  Rabelais 
who,  hearing  the  church  bells  ring  out,  at  almost 
the  same  moment,  the  baptism  of  his  son  and  the 
funeral  service  of  his  wife,  wept  with  one  eye  and 
laughed  with  the  other.  Benedict  would  break 
forth  into  exclamations  both  comical  and  touch- 
ing. He  went  from  his  wife  to  Thalberg  and 
from  Thalberg  to  his  wife.  'Ah!-  dear  Adele, 
this  is  frightful!'  he  would  exclaim  in  one  breath, 
and  with  the  next,  *Ah!  dear  Thalberg,  that 
is  delightful!'  I  have  still  ringing  in  my  ears 
the  original  duo  that  he  sang  that  day  to  him- 
self. 

"Thalberg's  triumph  irritated  Liszt  profoundly. 
It  was  not  envy.  He  was  incapable  of  any  low 
sentiment.  His  was  the  rage  of  a  dethroned 
king.  He  called  Thalberg's  school  disdainfully 
the  Thumb  school.  But  he  was  not  a  man  to 
yield  his  place  without  defending  himself,  and 
there  ensued  between  them  a  strife  that  was  all 
the  more  striking  that  the  antithesis  between  the 
two  men  was  as  great  as  the  difference  in  their 
talents. 

284 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

"Liszt's  attitude  at  the  piano,  like  that  of  a  py- 
thoness, has  been  remarked  again  and  again. 
Constantly  tossing  back  his  long  hair,  his  lips 
quivering,  his  nostrils  palpitating,  he  swept  the 
auditorium  with  the  glance  of  a  smiling  master. 
He  had  some  little  trick  of  the  comedian  in  his 
manner,  but  he  was  not  that.  He  was  a  Hun- 
garian; a  Hungarian  in  two  aspects,  at  once 
Magyar  and  Tzigane.  True  son  of  the  race 
that  dances  to  the  clanking  of  its  spurs.  His 
countrymen  understood  him  well  when  they  sent 
him  as  a  testimonial  of  honour  an  enormous 
sabre. 

"There  was  nothing  of  the  kind  about  Thalberg. 
He  was  the  gentleman  artist,  a  perfect  union  of 
talent  and  propriety.  He  seemed  to  have  taken 
it  for  his  rule  to  be  the  exact  opposite  of  his  rival. 
He  entered  noiselessly;  I  might  almost  say  with- 
out displacing  the  air.  After  a  dignified  greet- 
ing that  seemed  a  trifle  cold  in  manner,  he  seated 
himself  at  the  piano  as  though  upon  an  ordinary 
chair.  The  piece  began,  not  a  gesture,  not  a 
change  of  countenance !  not  a  glance  toward  the 
audience!  If  the  applause  was  enthusiastic,  a 
respectful  inclination  of  the  head  was  his  only  re- 
sponse. His  emotion,  which  was  very  profound, 
as  I  have  had  more  than  one  proof,  betrayed  it- 
self only  by  a  violent  rush  of  blood  to  the  head, 
colouring  his  ears,  his  face  and  his  neck.  Liszt 
seemed  seized  with  inspiration  from  the  beginning; 
with  the  first  note  he  gave  himself  up  to  his  talent 
without  reserve,  as  prodigals  throw  their  money 
285 


FRANZ  LISZT 

from  the  window  without  counting  it,  and  how- 
ever long  was  the  piece  his  inspired  fervour  never 
flagged. 

"Thalberg  began  slowly,  quietly,  calmly,  but 
with  a  calm  that  thrilled.  Under  those  notes  so 
seemingly  tranquil  one  felt  the  coming  storm. 
Little  by  little  the  movement  quickened,  the  ex- 
pression became  more  accentuated,  and  by  a 
series  of  gradual  crescendos  he  held  one  breath- 
less until  a  final  explosion  swept  the  audience 
with  an  emotion  indescribable. 

"I  had  the  rare  good  fortune  to  hear  these  two 
great  artists  on  the  same  day,  in  the  same  salon, 
at  an  interval  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  at  a  concert 
given  by  the  Princess  Belgiojoso  for  the  Poles. 
There  was  then  revealed  to  me  palpably,  clearly, 
the  characteristic  difference  in  their  talent.  Liszt 
was  incontestably  the  more  artistic,  the  more  vi- 
brant, the  more  electric.  He  had  tones  of  a  del- 
icacy that  made  one  think  of  the  almost  inaudible 
tinkling  of  tiny  spangles  or  the  faint  explosion  of 
sparks  of  fire.  Never  have  fingers  bounded  so 
lightly  over  the  piano.  But  at  the  same  time 
his  nervosity  caused  him  to  produce  sometimes 
effects  a  trifle  hard,  a  trifle  harsh.  I  shall  never 
forget  that,  after  a  piece  in  which  Liszt,  carried 
away  by  his  fury,  had  come  down  very  hard  upon 
the  keys,  the  sweet  and  charming  Pleyel  ap- 
proached the  instrument  and  gazed  with  an  ex- 
pression of  pity  upon  the  strings.  'What  are 
you  doing,  my  dear  friend?'  I  asked,  laugh- 
ing. 'I  am  looking  at  the  field  of  battle,'  here- 
286 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

sponded  in  a  melancholy  tone;  'I  am  counting 
the  wounded  and  the  dead.' 

"Thalberg  never  pounded.  What  constituted 
his  superiority,  what  made  the  pleasure  of  hear- 
ing him  play  a  luxury  to  the  ear,  was  pure  tone. 
I  have  never  heard  such  another,  so  full,  so 
round,  so  soft,  so  velvety,  so  sweet,  and  still  so 
strong!  How  shall  I  say  it?  The  voice  of  Al- 
boni. 

"At  this  concert  in  hearing  Liszt  I  felt  myself 
in  an  atmosphere  charged  with  electricity  and 
quivering  with  lightning.  In  hearing  Thalberg 
I  seemed  to  be  floating  in  a  sea  of  purest  light. 
The  contrast  between  their  characters  was  not 
less  than  between  their  talent.  I  had  a  striking 
proof  of  it  with  regard  to  Chopin. 

"It  is  not  possible  to  compare  any  one  with 
Chopin,  because  he  resembled  no  one.  Every- 
thing about  him  pertained  only  to  himself.  He 
had  his  own  tone,  his  own  touch.  All  the  great 
artists  have  executed  and  still  execute  the  works 
of  Chopin  with  great  ability,  but  in  reality  only 
Chopin  has  played  Chopin.  But  he  never  ap- 
peared in  public  concerts  nor  in  large  halls.  He 
liked  only  select  audiences  and  limited  gather- 
ings, just  as  he  would  use  no  other  piano  than  a 
Pleyel,  nor  have  any  other  tuner  than  Frederic. 
We,  fanatics  that  we  were,  were  indignant  at  his 
reserve ;  we  demanded  that  the  public  should  hear 
him;  and  one  day  in  one  of  those  fine  flights  of 
enthusiasm  that  have  caused  me  to  make  more 
than  one  blunder  I  wrote  in  Schlesinger's  Gazette 
287 


FRANZ  LISZT 

Musicale:  'Let  Chopin  plunge  boldly  into  the 
stream,  let  him  announce  a  grand  soiree  musicale 
and  the  next  day  when  the  eternal  question  shall 
arise,  "Who  is  the  greater  pianist  to-day,  Liszt 
or  Thalberg?"  the  public  will  answer  with  us, 
"It  is  Chopin.'" 

"To  be  frank,  I  had  done  better  not  to  have 
written  that  article.  I  should  have  recalled  my 
friendly  relations  with  the  two  others.  Liszt 
would  have  nothing  to  do  with  me  for  more  than 
two  months.  But  the  day  after  the  one  on  which 
my  article  appeared  Thalberg  was  at  my  door  at 
ten  in  the  morning.  He  stretched  out  his  hand 
as  he  entered,  saying,  'Bravo!  your  article  is 
only  just.' 

"At  last  their  rivalry,  which  in  reality  had  never 
been  more  than  emulation,  assumed  a  more  ac- 
centuated, a  more  striking  form.  Until  then  no 
pianist  had  ventured  to  play  in  the  hall  of  a  large 
theatre  with  an  auditorium  of  1,200  or  1,500. 
Thalberg,  impelled  by  his  successes,  announced 
a  concert  in  the  Theatre  des  Italiens,  not  in  the 
foyer,  but  in  the  main  auditorium.  He  played 
for  the  first  time  his  Moses,  and  his  success  was 
a  triumph. 

"Liszt,  somewhat  piqued,  saw  in  Thalberg's 
triumph  a  defiance,  and  he  announced  a  concert 
at  the  Opera.  For  his  battle  horse  he  took  Web- 
er's Concertstiick.  I  was  at  the  concert.  He 
placed  a  box  at  my  disposal,  requesting  that  I 
should  give  an  account  of  the  evening  in  the 
Gazette  Musicale.  I  arrived  full  of  hope  and  joy. 
288 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

A  first  glance  over  the  hall  checked  my  ardour 
a  trifle.  There  were  many,  very  many,  present, 
but  here  and  there  were  empty  spaces  that  dis- 
quieted me.  My  fears  were  not  without  reason. 
It  was  a  half  success.  Between  numbers  I  en- 
countered Berlioz,  with  whom  I  exchanged  my 
painful  impressions,  and  I  returned  home  quite 
tormented  over  the  article  I  was  to  write.  The 
next  day  I  had  hardly  seated  myself  at  my  table 
when  I  received  a  letter  from  Liszt.  I  am  happy 
to  reproduce  here  the  principal  part  of  that  let- 
ter, for  it  discloses  an  unknown  Liszt,  a  modest 
Liszt.  Yes,  modest!  It  only  half  astonished 
me,  for  a  certain  circumstance  had  revealed  this 
Liszt  to  me  once  before.  It  was  at  Scheffer's, 
who  was  painting  his  portrait.  When  posing 
Liszt  assumed  an  air  of  inspiration.  Scheffer, 
with  his  surpassing  brusqueness,  said  to  him: 
'The  devil,  Liszt!  Don't  put  on  the  airs  of  a 
man  of  genius  with  me.  You  know  well  enough 
that  I  am  not  fooled  by  it.' 

"  What  response  did  Liszt  make  to  these  rude 
words  ?  He  was  silent  a  moment,  then  going  up 
to  Scheffer  he  said:  'You  are  right,  my  dear 
friend.  But  pardon  me;  you  do  not  know  how 
it  spoils  one  to  have  been  an  infant  prodigy.' 
This  response  seemed  to  me  absolutely  delicious 
in  its  sweet  simplicity  —  I  might  say  in  its  hu- 
mility. The  letter  that  I  give  below  has  the  same 
character: 

"  'You  have  shown  me  of  late  an  affection  so 
comprehensive  that  I  ask  your  permission  to 
289 


FRANZ  LISZT 

speak  as  a  friend  to  a  friend.  Yes,  my  dear 
Legouve,  it  is  as  to  a  friend  that  I  am  about  to 
confess  to  you  a  weakness.  I  am  very  glad  that 
it  is  you  who  are  to  write  of  my  concert  yester- 
day, and  I  venture  to  ask  you  to  remain  silent 
for  this  time,  and  for  this  time  only,  concerning 
the  defective  side  of  my  talent.' 

"Is  it  possible,  I  ask,  to  make  a  more  difficult 
avowal  with  more  delicacy  or  greater  frankness  ? 
Do  we  know  many  of  the  great  artists  capable 
of  writing  'the  defective  side  of  my  talent'? 
* '  I  sent  him  immediately  the  following  response : 
"  *No,  my  dear  friend,  I  will  not  do  what  you 
ask!  No,  I  will  not  maintain  silence  concerning 
the  defective  side  of  your  talent,  for  the  very  sim- 
ple reason  that  you  never  displayed  greater  talent 
than  yesterday.  Heaven  defend  me  from  deny- 
ing the  coldness  of  the  public,  or  from  proclaim- 
ing your  triumph  when  you  have  not  triumphed! 
That  would  be  unworthy  of  you,  and,  permit  me 
to  add,  of  me.  But  what  was  it  that  happened  ? 
and  why  this  half  failure?  Ah!  blunderer  that 
you  were,  what  a  strategic  error  you  committed! 
Instead  of  placing  the  orchestra  back  of  you,  as 
at  the  Conservatory,  so  as  to  bring  you  directly 
in  contact  with  your  audience,  and  to  establish 
between  you  and  them  an  electric  current,  you 
cut  the  wire;  you  left  this  terrible  orchestra  in 
its  usual  place.  You  played  across  I  know  not 
how  many  violins,  violoncellos,  horns,  and  trom- 
bones, and  the  voice  of  your  instrument,  to  reach 
us,  had  to  pass  through  all  that  warring  orches- 
290 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

tra !  And  you  are  astonished  at  the  result !  But, 
my  dear  friend,  how  was  it  two  months  ago  at 
the  Conservatory  that  with  the  same  piece  you 
produced  such  a  wonderful  effect?  It  was  be- 
cause that,  in  front  alone,  with  the  orchestra  be- 
hind you,  you  appeared  like  a  cavalry  colonel 
at  the  head  of  his  regiment,  his  horse  in  full  gal- 
lop, his  sabre  in  hand,  leading  on  his  soldiers, 
whose  enthusiasm  was  only  the  accompaniment 
of  his  own.  At  the  Opera  the  colonel  abandoned 
his  place  at  the  head  of  his  regiment,  and  placed 
himself  at  its  rear.  Fine  cause  for  surprise  that 
your  tones  did  not  reach  us  resounding  and  vi- 
brant! This  is  what  happened,  my  dear  friend, 
and  this  is  what  I  shall  say,  and  I  shall  add  that 
there  was  no  one  but  Liszt  in  the  world  who  could 
have  produced  under  such  conditions  the  effect 
that  you  produced.  For  in  reality  your  failure 
would  have  been  a  great  success  for  any  other 
than  you. 

"  'With  this,  wretched  strategist,  I  send  you  a 
cordial  pressure  of  the  hand,  and  begin  my  arti- 
cle.' 

"  The  following  Sunday  my  article  appeared,  and 
I  had  the  great  pleasure  to  have  satisfied  him." 

ROBERT  SCHUMANN  ON  LISZT'S  PLAYING 

"  Liszt  is  now  [1840]  probably  about  thirty  years 

old.     Every  one  knows  well  that  he  was  a  child 

phenomenon;   how  he  was  early  transplanted  to 

foreign  lands;  that  his  name  afterward  appeared 

291 


FRANZ  LISZT 

here  and  there  among  the  most  distinguished; 
that  then  the  rumour  of  it  occasionally  died  away, 
until  Paganini  appeared,  inciting  the  youth  to 
new  endeavours;  and  that  he  suddenly  appeared 
in  Vienna  two  years  ago,  rousing  the  imperial 
city  to  enthusiasm.  Thus  he  appeared  among 
us  of  late,  already  honoured,  with  the  highest 
honours  that  can  be  bestowed  on  an  artist,  and 
his  fame  already  estabhshed. 

"The  first  concert,  on  the  17th,  was  a  remark- 
able one.  The  multitudinous  audience  was  so 
crowded  together  that  even  the  hall  looked  al- 
tered. The  orchestra  was  also  filled  with  listen- 
ers, and  among  them  —  Liszt. 

"He  began  with  the  Scherzo  and  Finale  of  Bee- 
thoven's Pastoral  Symphony.  The  selection  was 
capricious  enough,  and  on  many  accounts  not 
happy.  At  home,  in  a  tete-a-tete,  a  highly  careful 
transcription  may  lead  one  almost  to  forget  the 
orchestra;  but  in  a  large  hall,  in  the  same  place 
where  we  have  been  accustomed  to  hear  the 
symphony  played  frequently  and  perfectly  by 
the  orchestra,  the  weakness  of  the  pianoforte  is 
striking,  and  the  more  so  the  more  an  attempt 
is  made  to  represent  masses  in  their  strength. 
Let  it  be  understood,  with  all  this,  we  had  heard 
the  master  of  the  instrument;  people  were  satis- 
fied; they  at  least,  had  seen  him  shake  his  mane. 
To  hold  to  the  same  illustration,  the  lion  pres- 
ently began  to  show  himself  more  powerful. 
This  was  in  a  fantasia  on  themes  by  Pacini, 
which  he  played  in  a  most  remarkable  manner. 
292 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

But  I  would  sacrifice  all  the  astonishing,  the  au- 
dacious bravura  that  he  displayed  here  for  the 
sake  of  the  magical  tenderness  that  he  expressed 
in  the  following  dtude.  With  the  sole  exception 
of  Chopin,  as  I  have  already  said,  I  know  not 
one  who  equals  him  in  this  quality.  He  closed 
with  the  well-known  Chromatic  Gallop;  and  as 
the  applause  this  elicited  was  endless,  he  also 
played  his  equally  well-known  bravura  waltz. 

"Fatigue  and  indisposition  prevented  the  artist 
from  giving  the  concert  promised  for  the  next 
day.  In  the  meantime  a  musical  festival  was 
prepared  for  him,  that  will  never  be  forgotten  by 
Liszt  himself  or  the  others  present.  The  giver 
of  the  festival  (Felix  Mendelssohn)  had  selected 
for  performance  some  compositions  unknown  to 
his  guest:  Franz  Schubert's  symphony  (in  C); 
his  own  psalm,  As  the  Hart  Pants;  the  overture, 
A  Calm  Sea  and  a  Prosperous  Voyage;  three 
choruses  from  St.  Paul;  and,  to  close  with,  the 
D-minor  concerto  for  three  pianos  by  Sebastian 
Bach.  This  was  played  by  Liszt,  Mendelssohn, 
and  Hiller.  It  seemed  as  though  nothing  had 
been  prepared,  but  all  improvised  instantane- 
ously. Those  were  three  such  happy  musical 
hours  as  years  do  not  always  bring.  At  the  end 
Liszt  played  alone,  and  wonderfully. 

"Liszt's  most  genial  performance  was  yet  to  come 
—  Weber's  Concertstiick,  which  he  played  at  his 
second  concert.  Virtuoso  and  public  seemed  to 
be  in  the  freshest  mood  possible  on  that  evening, 
and  the  enthusiasm  before  and  after  his  playing 

293 


FRANZ  LISZT 

exceeded  anything  hitherto  known  here.  Al- 
though Liszt  grasped  the  piece,  from  the  begin- 
ning, with  such  force  and  grandeur  of  expression 
that  an  attack  on  a  battle-field  would  seem  to  be 
in  question,  yet  he  carried  this  on  with  continu- 
ally increasing  power,  until  the  passage  where 
the  player  seemed  to  stand  at  the  summit  of  the 
orchestra,  leading  it  forward  in  triumph.  Here, 
indeed,  he  resembled  that  great  commander  to 
whom  he  has  been  compared,  and  the  tempestu- 
ous applause  that  greeted  him  was  not  unlike  an 
adoring  "Vive  I'Empereur!"  He  then  played 
a  fantasia  on  themes  from  the  Huguenots,  the 
Ave  Maria  and  Serenade,  and,  at  the  request  of 
the  public,  the  Erl-King  of  Schubert.  But  the 
Concertstiick  was  the  crown  of  his  performances 
on  this  evening." 

LISZT  IN  RUSSIA 

"Liszt  visited  Russia  for  the  first  time  in  1842," 
writes  Rose  Newmarch.  "I do  not  know  whether 
this  journey  was  part  of  the  original  scheme  of 
his  great  two  years'  tour  on  the  continent  (1840- 
1842),  or  if  he  only  yielded  to  the  pressing  invi- 
tations of  several  influential  Russian  friends. 
Early  in  1839,  among  the  many  concerts  which 
he  gave  in  Rome,  none  was  more  brilliant  than 
the  recital  organised  by  the  famous  Russian  ama- 
teur. Count  Bielgorsky,  at  the  house  of  Prince 
Galitsin,  Governor- General  of  Moscow,  who  was 
wintering  in  the  Italian  capital.  During  the  fol- 
294 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

lowing  year,  Liszt  spent  three  days  at  Ems,  where 
he  was  presented  to  the  Empress  Alexandra 
Feodorovna,  to  whom  he  played  every  evening 
during  his  brief  visit.  The  Empress  was  fasci- 
nated by  his  genius,  and  enjoined  him  to  visit 
Russia  without  delay. 

"The  phenomenal  success  of  the  twenty- two 
concerts  which  Liszt  gave  in  Berlin  during  the 
winter  of  1841-1842,  soon  became  a  subject  of 
gossip  in  Petersburg,  and  his  arrival  was  awaited 
with  unprecedented  excitement.  He  reached 
the  capital  early  in  April,  and  was  almost  im- 
mediately presented  to  Nicholas  I.  On  enter- 
ing the  audience  chamber,  the  Emperor,  ignor- 
ing the  presence  of  numerous  generals  and  high 
oflBicials  who  were  awaiting  an  audience,  went 
straight  to  Liszt  saying,  "Monsieur  Liszt,  I  am 
delighted  to  see  you  in  Petersburg,"  and  im- 
mediately engaged  him  in  conversation.  A  day 
or  two  later,  on  the  8th  of  April,  Liszt  gave  his 
first  concert  in  the  Salle  de  la  Noblesse,  before 
an  audience  of  three  thousand  people.  This 
concert  was  both  a  novel  and  an  important  event 
in  Russia.  Not  only  was  it  the  first  recital  ever 
heard  there  —  for  before  Liszt's  day,  no  single 
artist  had  attempted  to  hold  the  public  attention 
by  the  spell  of  his  own  unaided  gifts  —  but  it  was 
also  the  first  tie  in  a  close  and  lasting  bond  be- 
tween the  great  virtuoso  and  the  Russian  people. 
In  after  years,  no  one  was  quicker  to  discern  the 
attractive  qualities  of  Russian  music,  nor  more 
assiduous  in  its  propagation  than  Franz  Liszt. 

295 


FRANZ  LISZT 

"In  the  memoirs  of  contemporary  Russian  writ- 
ers there  are  many  interesting  references  to 
Liszt's  first  appearance  in  Petersburg.  Not  only 
do  these  reminiscences  show  the  extraordinary 
glamour  and  interest  which  invested  the  person- 
ality of  the  master;  they  throw  some  light  upon 
social  life  in  Russia  during  the  first  half  of  the 
century. 

"The  brilliant  audience  which  flocked  to  the 
Salle  de  la  Noblesse  to  hear  Liszt,  numbered  no 
greater  enthusiasts  than  the  two  young  students 
of  the  School  of  Jurisprudence,  Stassov  and 
Serov.  Both  were  destined  to  attain  celebrity 
in  after-life;  the  former  as  a  great  critic,  and  the 
chief  upholder  of  national  art;  the  latter,  as  the 
composer  of  at  least  one  popular  opera,  and  the 
leading  exponent  of  the  Wagnerian  doctrines  in 
Russia.  Stassov's  reminiscences  are  highly  pic- 
turesque. We  seem  actually  to  see  the  familiar 
figure  of  the  pianist  as  he  entered  the  magnificent 
Hall  of  the  Nobility,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  Count 
Bielgorsky,  an  "elderly  Adonis"  and  typical 
dandy  of  the  forties.  Bielgorsky  was  somewhat 
inclined  to  obesity,  moved  slowly,  and  stared  at 
the  elegant  assemblage  with  prominent,  short- 
sighted eyes.  His  hair  was  brushed  back  and 
curled,  after  the  model  of  the  Apollo  Belvedere, 
while  he  wore  an  enormous  white  cravat.  Liszt 
also  wore  a  white  cravat,  and  over  it  the  Order  of 
the  Golden  Spur,  bestowed  upon  him  a  short 
time  previously  by  the  Pope.  He  was  further 
adorned  with  various  other  orders  suspended  by 
496 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

chains  from  the  lapels  of  his  dress  coat.  But  that 
which  struck  the  Russians  most  was  the  great 
mane  of  fair  hair  reaching  almost  to  his  shoul- 
ders. Outside  the  priesthood,  no  Russian  would 
have  ventured  on  such  a  style  of  hair-dressing. 
Such  dishevelment  had  been  sternly  discoun- 
tenanced since  the  time  of  Peter  the  Great.  Stas- 
sov,  afterward  one  of  the  warmest  admirers  of 
Liszt,  both  as  man  and  musician,  was  not  al- 
together favourably  impressed  by  this  first  sight 
of  the  virtuoso.  "He  was  very  thin,  stooped  a 
great  deal,  and  though  I  had  read  much  about 
his  famous  'Florentine  profile'  and  his  likeness 
to  Dante,  I  did  not  find  his  face  beautiful.  I 
was  not  pleased  with  his  mania  for  decking  him- 
self with  orders,  and  afterwards  I  was  as  little 
prepossessed  by  his  somewhat  affected  demean- 
our to  those  who  came  in  contact  with  him." 

"After  the  first  hush  of  intense  curiosity,  the  en- 
tire assembly  began  to  discuss  Liszt  in  a  sub- 
dued murmur.  Stassov,  who  sat  close  to  Glinka 
and  a  well-known  pianist  —  Madame  Palibin  — 
caught  the  following  conversation.  Madame 
Palibin  inquired  if  Glinka  had  already  heard 
Liszt.  He  replied  that  he  had  met  him  the  night 
before  at  Count  Bielgorsky's  reception.  'Well, 
what  did  you  think  of  him  ? '  Glinka  answered, 
without  a  moment's  hesitation,  that  sometimes 
Liszt  played  divinely  —  like  no  one  else  in  the 
world;  at  other  times  atrociously,  with  exag- 
gerated emphasis,  dragging  the  'tempi,'  and 
adding  —  even  to  the  music  of  Chopin,  Bee- 
297 


FRANZ  LISZT 

thoven,  and  Bach  —  tasteless  embellishments  of 
his  own.  *I  was  horribly  scandalised,'  says 
Stassov.  'What!  Did  our  "mediocre"  Rus- 
sian musician'  (this  was  Stassov's  first  sight  of 
Glinka,  and  a  short  time  before  the  appearance 
of  Russlane  and  Lioudmilla)  'venture  thus  to 
criticise  the  great  genius  Liszt,  who  had  turned 
the  heads  of  all  Europe ! '  Madame  Palibin,  too, 
seemed  to  disapprove  of  Glinka's  criticism,  and 
said  laughingly,  '  Allons  done,  tout  cela,  ce  n'est 
que  rivalite  de  metier! '  Glinka  smiled  urbanely, 
shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  replied,  'As  you 
please.' 

"At  this  moment  Liszt  mounted  the  platform, 
and,  pulling  his  dog-skin  gloves  from  his  shapely 
white  hands,  tossed  them  carelessly  on  the  floor. 
Then,  after  acknowledging  the  thunderous  ap- 
plause —  such  as  had  not  been  heard  in  Russia 
for  over  a  century  —  he  seated  himself  at  the 
piano.  There  was  a  silence  as  though  the  whole 
audience  had  been  turned  to  stone,  and  Liszt, 
without  any  prelude,  began  the  opening  bars  of 
the  overture  to  William  Tell.  Criticism,  curi- 
osity, speculation,  all  were  forgotten  in  the  won- 
derful enchantment  of  the  performance.  Among 
other  things,  he  played  his  fantasia  on  Don  Juan, 
his  arrangements  of  Adelaide,  and  The  Erl  King, 
and  wound  up  the  recital  with  his  showy  Galop 
Chromatique. 

"  'After  the  concert,'  says  Stassov,  '  Serov  and 
I  were  like  madmen.  We  scarcely  exchanged  a 
word,  but  hurried  home,  each  to  write  down  his 
298 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

impressions,  dreams,  and  raptures.  But  we  both 
vowed  to  keep  the  anniversary  of  this  day  sacred 
for  ever,  and  never,  while  life  lasted,  to  forget  a 
single  incident  of  it.  We  were  like  men  in  love, 
or  bewitched.  What  wonder?  Never  before 
had  we  come  face  to  face  with  such  a  gifted,  im- 
passioned, almost  demoniacal  personality  as  that 
of  Liszt,  who  seemed  alternately  to  let  loose  the 
forces  of  the  whirlwind,  or  to  carry  us  away  on  a 
flood  of  tenderness,  grace,  and  beauty." 

"Serov  felt  even  more  strongly  the  fascination 
of  Liszt's  genuis.  The  same  evening  he  sent  to 
Stassov  the  following  record  of  his  impressions: 
'First,  let  me  congratulate  you  on  your  initia- 
tion into  the  great  mysteries  of  art,  and  then  —  let 
me  think  a  little.  It  is  two  hours  since  I  left  the 
Hall,  and  I  am  still  beside  myself.  Where  am 
I  ?  Am  I  dreaming,  or  under  a  spell  ?  Have  I 
indeed  heard  Liszt?  I  expected  great  things 
from  all  the  accounts  I  had  heard,  and  still  more 
from  a  kind  of  inward  conviction  —  but  how  far 
the  reality  surpassed  my  expectations!  Happy, 
indeed,  are  we  to  be  living  in  1842,  at  the  same 
time  as  such  an  artist!  Fortunate,  indeed,  that 
we  have  been  privileged  to  hear  him!  I  am 
gushing  a  great  deal  —  too  much  for  me,  but  I 
cannot  contain  myself.  Bear  with  me  in  this  lyr- 
ical crisis  until  I  can  express  myself  calmly  .  .  . 
What  a  festival  it  has  been !  How  different  every- 
thing looks  in  God's  world  to-day!  And  all  this 
is  the  work  of  one  man  and  his  playing!  What  a 
power  is  music!  I  cannot  collect  my  thoughts 
299 


FRANZ  LISZT 

—  my  whole  being  seems  in  a  state  of  abnormal 
tension,  of  confused  rapture ! ' 

"  Do  we  experience  this  exaltation  nowadays? 
I  think  not.  Rarely  do  we  partake  of  the  insane 
root.  Are  there  no  more  enchanters  like  Liszt? 
Or  has  the  capacity  of  such  enthusiasm  and  ex- 
pansion passed  away  for  ever  with  the  white 
stocks,  the  'coiffure  k  I'Apollon  Belvedere'  and 
the  frank  emotionalism  of  the  early  Victorian 
period?" 

LISZT  IN  ENGLAND 

"The  visits  of  great  musicians  to  our  shores 
have  furnished  much  interesting  material  to  the 
musical  historian,"  wrote  the  Musical  Times. 
"Those  of  Mozart  and  Haydn,  for  instance,  have 
been  fully  and  ably  treated  by  the  late  Carl  Ferdi- 
nand Pohl,  in  two  volumes  which  have  never  been 
translated,  as  they  deserve  to  be,  into  the  English 
language.  No  less  interesting  are  the  sojourn- 
ings  in  London  and  the  provinces  of  Spohr, 
Weber,  Mendelssohn,  Chopin,  Berlioz,  Verdi, 
and  Wagner.  'The  King  of  Pianists'  has  not 
hitherto  received  the  attention  due  to  him  in 
this  respect,  and  the  following  chit-chat  upon  his 
English  experiences  is  offered  as  a  small  contribu- 
tion to  the  existing  biographical  information  con- 
cerning a  great  man. 

"Franz  was  a  boy  of  twelve  years  of  age,  when 

he  made  his  first  appearance  in  London  in  the  year 

1824.     At  that  time  Rossini  shone  as  the  bright 

particular  star  in  the  London  musical  firmament. 

300 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

The  composer  of  II  Barbiere  actually  gave  con- 
certs. 'Persons  desirous  .of  obtaining  tickets 
are  requested  to  send  their  names  to  Signor  Ros- 
sini, 90,  Quadrant  [Regent  Street],'  so  the  adver- 
tisements stated.  It  was  therefore  thought  de- 
sirable to  postpone  the  appearance  of  the  little 
Hungarian  pianist  until  after  Rossini  had  fin- 
ished his  music-makings. 

"The  first  appearance  of  Liszt  in  England  was 
of  a  semi-private  nature.  On  June  5,  1824,  the 
Annual  Festival  of  the  Royal  Society  of  Musi- 
cians took  place.  The  account  of  the  dinner 
given  in  the  Morning  Post  contains  the  follow- 
ing information: 

"  'Master  Liszt  (a  youth  from  Hungary)  per- 
formed on  a  Grand  Pianoforte  with  an  improved 
action,  invented  by  Sebastian  Erard,  the  cele- 
brated Harp-maker,  of  very  great  power  and 
brilliancy  of  tone. 

"  'To  do  justice  to  the  performance  of  Master 
Liszt  is  totally  out  of  our  power;  his  execution, 
taste,  expression,  genius,  and  wonderful  extem- 
porary playing,  defy  any  written  description. 
He  must  be  heard  to  be  duly  appreciated.' 

"  Among  those  who  heard  Master  Liszt  was  a 
certain  Master  Wesley  (Samuel  Sebastian  of  that 
ilk),  who,  as  a  Chapel  Royal  Chorister,  took  part 
in  the  glees  sung  at  that  festive  board.  The 
Quarterly  Musical  Magazine  and  Review  of  1824 
(p.  241)  thus  referred  to  the  young  pianist's  per- 
formance : 

"  'We  heard  this  youth  first  at  the  dinner  of 
the  Royal  Society  of  Musicians,  where  he  extem- 
301 


FRANZ  LISZT 

porised  for  about  twenty  minutes  before  that 
judgmatical  audience  of  professors  and  their 
friends.' 

"The  announcement  of  Liszt's  concert  ap- 
peared in  the  Morning  Post  in  these  terms: 

"  *NEW  ARGYLL  ROOMS 

"  *  Master  Liszt,  aged  twelve  years,  a  native  of 
Hungary  .  .  .  respectfully  informs  the  Nobility, 
Gentry,  and  the  Public  in  general,  that  his  Benefit 
Concert  will  take  place  this  evening,  June  21, 
1824,  to  commence  at  half-past  8  precisely,  when 
he  will  perform  on  Sebastian  Erard's  new  patent 
Grand  Pianoforte,  a  Concerto  by  Hummel,  New 
variations  by  Winkhler,  and  play  extempore  on  a 
written  Thema,  which  Master  Liszt  will  request 
any  person  of  the  company  to  give  him.  .  .  . 

"  '  Leader,  Mr.  Mori.  Conductor,  Sir  George 
Smart.  Tickets,  half-a-guinea  each,  to  be  had 
of  Master  Liszt,  18,  Great  Marlborough  Street.' 

"In  an  account  of  the  concert  the  Morning  Post 
said:  'Notwithstanding  the  contrary  motions 
which  occurred  on  Monday  night  of  Pasta's  ben- 
efit and  a  Grand  Rout  given  by  Prince  Leo- 
pold, there  was  a  numerous  attendance.'  The 
musicians  present  included  Clementi,  J.  B.  Cra- 
mer, Ries,  Neate,  Kalkbrenner,  and  Cipriani  Pot- 
ter, all  of  whom  'rewarded  Master  Liszt  with 
repeated  hravosJ  The  programme  included  an 
air  with  variations  by  Czemy,  played  by  Liszt, 
who  also  took  part  in  Di  Tanti  Palpiti,  performed 
"as  a  concertante  with  Signor  Vimercati  on  his 
little  mandolin  with  uncommon  spirit.'  The  re- 
302 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

mainder  of  the  Morning  Post  notice  may  be 
quoted  in  full: 

"  *  Sir  G.  Smart  (who  conducted  the  Concert) 
invited  any  person  in  the  company  to  oblige 
Master  Liszt  with  a  Thema,  on  which  he  would 
work  (as  the  phrase  is)  extemporaneously.  Here 
an  interesting  pause  took  place ;  at  length  a  lady 
named  Zitti,  Zitti.  The  little  fellow,  though  not 
very  well  acquainted  with  the  air,  sat  down  and 
roved  about  the  instrument,  occasionally  touch- 
ing a  few  bars  of  the  melody,  then  taking  it  as  a 
subject  for  a  transient  fugue;  but  the  best  part 
of  this  performance  was  that  wherein  he  intro- 
duced the  air  with  his  right  hand,  while  the  left 
swept  the  keys  chromatically;  then  he  crossed 
over  his  right  hand,  played  the  subject  with  the 
left,  while  the  right  hand  descended  by  semi- 
tones to  the  bottom  of  the  instrument!  It  is 
needless  to  add,  that  his  efforts  were  crowned 
with  the  most  brilliant  success.' 

"Liszt  took  part  in  two  grand  miscellaneous 
concerts  given  at  the  Theatre  Royal,  Manchester, 
on  the  2d  and  4th  of  August,  the  other  chief  at- 
traction being  The  Infant  Lyra,  a  prodigy  harp- 
ist 'not  four  years  old,'  and  nine  years  younger 
than  the  juvenile  Hungarian  pianist.  The  pro- 
gramme included  '  an  extempore  fantasia  on 
Erard's  new  patent  grand  pianoforte  of  seven 
octaves  by  Master  Liszt,  who  will  respectfully 
request  a  written  thema  from  any  person  present.' 
The  advertisement  of  the  second  concert  in- 
cluded the  following: 

"  'Master  Liszt  being  about  to  return  to  the 

303 


FRANZ  LISZT 

Continent  where  he  is  eagerly  expected  in  conse- 
quence of  his  astonishing  talents,  and  the  Infant 
Lyra  being  on  his  way  to  London,  the  only  op- 
portunity which  can  occur  for  the  inhabitants  of 
Manchester  to  hear  them  has  been  seized  by  Mr. 
Ward;  and  to  afford  every  possible  advantage 
to  the  Voices  and  Instruments,  he  has  so  con- 
structed the  Orchestra,  that  the  Harp,  and 
Piano-Forte  will  be  satisfactorily  heard  in  every 
part  of  the  house.' 

"The  young  gentleman  was  honoured  with  a 
*  command  '  to  perform  before  King  George  the 
Fourth  at  Windsor  Castle.  In  the  words  of 
the  Windsor  Express  of  July  31,  1824: 

"  '  On  Thursday  evening,  young  Lizt  (sic),  the 
celebrated  juvenile  performer  on  the  pianoforte, 
was  introduced  to  the  King  at  Windsor  by  Prince 
Esterhazy.  In  the  course  of  the  evening  he 
played  several  pieces  of  Handel's  and  Mozart's 
upon  the  piano,  which  he  executed  in  a  style  to 
draw  forth  the  plaudits  of  His  Majesty  and  the 
company  present.' 

"In  the  following  year  (1825),  Master  Liszt 
paid  his  second  visit  to  England  and  again  ap- 
peared in  Manchester. 

"At  his  third  visit  (in  1827),  he  made  the  ac- 
quaintance of  the  late  Charles  Salaman,  two 
years  his  senior,  who  heard  Liszt  play  Hummel's 
Concerto.  In  his  pleasantly-written  recollec- 
tions of  pianists  of  the  past  (Blackwood's  Maga- 
zine, September,  1901),  Mr.  Salaman  says: 

"  *  Very  shortly  afterwards  —  just  before  Liszt's 
morning  concert,  for  which  my  father  had  pur- 

304 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

chased  tickets  from  his  father  —  we  became  ac- 
quainted. I  visited  him  and  his  father  at  their 
lodgings  in  Frith  Street,  Soho,  and  young  Liszt 
came  to  early  family  dinner  at  my  home.  He  was 
a  very  charmingly  natural  and  unaffected  boy, 
and  I  have  never  forgotten  his  joyful  exclamation, 
*Oh,  gooseberry  pie!'  when  his  favourite  dish 
was  put  upon  the  table.  We  had  a  good  deal  of 
music  together  on  that  memorable  afternoon, 
reading  several  duets.  Liszt  played  some  of  his 
recently  published  Etudes,  Op.  6,  a  copy  of  which 
he  gave  me,  and  in  which  he  wrote  specially  for 
me  an  amended  version  of  the  sixth  study,  Molto 
agitato.' 

''Here  is  the  programme  of  the  morning  con- 
cert above  referred  to: 

NEW  ARGYLL  ROOMS 

MASTER  LISZT 

Has  the  honour  to  inform  the  Nobility,  Gentry,  and  his 

Friends,  that  his 

MORNING   CONCERT 

will  take  place  at  the  above  rooms  on 

Saturday,  June  9,  1827 

Part  I 
Overture  to  Les  Deux  Journees,  arranged  by 

Mr.  Moscheles  for  four  performers  on 

two  Grand  Piano  Fortes,  Mr.  Be  ale, 

Master  Liszt,  Mr.  Martin,  and  Mr. 

WiGLEY Cheruhini 

Aria,  Mr.  Begrez Beethoven 

Fantasia,  Harp,  on  Irish  Airs,  Mr.  Labarre  Labarre 


FRANZ  LISZT 

Duetto,  Miss  Grant  {Pupil  of  Mr.  CRI- 
YELLl  at  the  Royal  Academy  of  Music) 
and  Signer  Torri Rossini 

Concerto  (MS.),  Piano  Forte,  with  Orches- 
tral Accompaniments,  Master  Liszt    .     Master  Liszt 

Song,  Miss  Stephens. 

Solo,  French  Horn,  Mr.  G.  Schuncke       .      G.  Schuncke 

Aria,  Miss  Betts Rossini 

Duetto,  Miss  Fanny  Ayton  and  Mr.  Be- 

GREZ,  "Amor!  possente  nome".     .     .  Rossini 

Fantasia,  Violin,  Mr.  Mori. 

Scena,  Mr.  Braham Zingarelli 

Extempore  Fantasia  on  a  given  subject,  Master  Liszt. 

Part  II 

Quartet  for  Voice,  Harp,  Piano  Forte,  and 

Violin,  Miss  Stephens,  Mr.  Labarre, 

Master  Liszt,  and  Mr.  Mori  Moscheles  and  Mayseder 
Aria,  Miss  Fanny  Ayton,  "Una  voce  poco 

fa" Rossini 

Solo,  Guitar,  Mr.  Huerta Huerta 

Duet,  Miss  Stephens  and  Mr.  Braham. 

Song,  Miss  Love,  "Had  I  a  heart." 

Fantasia,  Flute,  Master  Minasi  .     .     .     Master  Minasi 

Song,  Miss  Grant,  "The  Nightingale"     .  Crivelli 

Brilliant  Variations  on  "Rule  Britannia," 

Master  Liszt Master  Liszt 


Leader,  Mr.  Mori     Conductor,  Mr.  Schuncke 

THE  CONCERT  WILL  COMMENCE  AT  HALF-PAST  ONE  O'CLOCK 
PRECISELY 


Tickets,  Half-a-Guinea  each,  to  be  had  of  Mr.  LiszT,  46, 

Great  Marlborough  Street,  and  at  all  the  principal 

Music  Shops. 

306 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

"Thirteen  years  elapsed  before  Liszt  again 
favoured  us  with  his  presence.  He  had  in  the 
meantime  passed  from  boyhood  to  manhood, 
from  having  been  a  prodigy  to  becoming  a  ma- 
ture artist.  The  year  was  1840  —  an  important 
one,  as  we  shall  presently  see.  He  appeared,  for 
the  first  time,  at  the  Philharmonic  Concert  of 
May  II,  1840,  which  was  conducted  by  Sir  Henry 
Bishop.  Liszt  played  his  own  version  of  Weber's 
Concertstiick  in  which,  according  to  a  contem- 
porary account,  'passages  were  doubled,  tripled, 
inverted,  and  transmogrified  in  all  sorts  of  ways.' 
Be  this  as  it  may,  the  Philharmonic  Directors 
showed  their  appreciation  of  his  performance  by 
a  presentation,  an  account  of  which  appeared  in 
a  snappy  and  short-lived  paper  called  the  Musical 
Journal.     Here  is  the  extract: 

"  'Liszt  has  been  presented  by  the  Philharmonic 
Society  with  an  elegant  silver  breakfast  service, 
for  doing  that  which  would  cause  every  young 
student  to  receive  a  severe  reprimand  —  viz., 
thumping  and  partially  destroying  two  very  fine 
pianofortes.  The  Society  has  given  this  to  Mr. 
Liszt  as  a  compliment  for  performing  at  two  of  its 
concerts  gratuitously!  Whenever  did  they  pre- 
sent an  Englishman  with  a  silver  breakfast  service 
for  gratuitous  performances?' 

"The  foregoing  is  written  in  the  strain  which 
characterised  the  attitude  of  a  section  of  the 
musical  press  towards  the  great  pianist.  His 
use  of  the  word  *  Recitals '  appears  to  have  been 
as  a  red  rag  to  those  roaring  bulls.    The  familiar 

307 


FRANZ  LISZT 

term  owes  its  origin  to  Liszt's  performances. 
The  late  Willert  Beale  records  that  his  father, 
Frederick  Beale,  invented  the  designation,  and 
that  it  was  much  discussed  before  being  finally 
adopted.    The  advertisement  reads  thus: 

"  *  liszt's  pianoforte  recitals 

"  *  M.  Liszt  will  give  at  Two  o'clock  on  Tuesday 
morning,  June  9,  1840,  recitals  on  the  piano- 
forte of  the  following  works:  —  No.  i.  Scherzo 
and  Finale  from  Beethoven's  Pastorale  Sym- 
phony. No.  2.  Serenade,  by  Schubert.  No.  3. 
Ave  Maria,  by  Schubert.  No.  4.  Hexameron. 
No.  5.  Neapolitan  Tarentelles.  No.  6.  Grand 
Galop  Chromatique.  Tickets  los.  6d.  each;  re- 
served seats,  near  the  Pianoforte,  21s.' 

"The  'Recitals'  —  the  plural  form  of  the  term 
will  be  noticed  —  took  place  at  the  Hanover 
Square  Rooms,  and  the  piece  entitled  Hexa- 
meron (a  set  of  variations  on  the  grand  march  in 
I  Puritani)  was  the  composition  of  the  following 
sextet  of  pianists:  Thalberg,  Chopin,  Herz, 
Czerny,  Pixis,  and  Liszt,  not  exactly  'a  singular 
production,'  as  the  Musical  World  remarked, 
but  'an  uncommon  one.'  In  connection  with 
the  'Recitals,'  Mr.  Salaman  may  be  quoted: 

"  'I  did  not  hear  Liszt  again  until  his  visit  to 
London  in  1840,  when  he  puzzled  the  musical 
public  by  announcing  "Pianoforte  Recitals." 
This  now  commonly  accepted  term  had  never 
previously  been  used,  and  people  asked,  "  What 
does  he  mean?  How  can  any  one  recite  upon 
308 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

the  pianoforte?"  At  these  recitals,  Liszt,  after 
performing  a  piece  set  down  in  his  programme, 
would  leave  the  platform,  and,  descending  into 
the  body  of  the  room,  where  the  benches  were  so 
arranged  as  to  allow  free  locomotion,  would  move 
about  among  his  auditors  and  converse  with 
his  friends,  with  the  gracious  condescension  of  a 
prince,  until  he  felt  disposed  to  return  to  the 
piano.' 

"  The  Musical  World  referred  to  the  *  Recitals' 
as  'this  curious  exhibition';  that  the  perform- 
ance was  'little  short  of  a  miracle';  and  that 
the  Hexameron  contained  'some  difficulties  of 
inconceivable  outrageousness.'  Another  speci- 
men of  critical  insight  may  be  quoted  —  it  refers 
to  Liszt's  participation  in  a  concert  given  by 
John  Parry: 

"  'On  being  unanimously  recalled,  he  tore  the 
National  Anthem  to  ribbons,  and  thereby  fogged 
the  glory  he  had  just  achieved.  Let  him  eschew 
such  hyper-erudite  monstrosities  —  let  him  stick 
to  the  'recital'  of  sane  and  sanative  music,  and 
he  will  attain  a  reputation  above  all  contempo- 
rary musical  mono-isLctuTeis  —  and  what  is  more, 
deserve  it.' 

"In  the  autumn  of  the  same  year  (1840),  Liszt 
formed  one  of  a  concert-party,  organised  by 
Lavenu,  in  a  tour  in  the  south  of  England.  The 
party  included  John  Parry,  the  composer  of 
Wanted,  a  Governess,  and  the  comic  man  of  the 
Lavenu  troup.  Like  Mendelssohn,  Liszt  seems 
to  have  taken  to  the  jocose  Parry,  and  he  quite 

309 


FRANZ  LISZT 

entered  into  the  fun  of  the  fair.  For  instance, 
at  Bath,  'in  addition  to  the  pieces  announced 
in  the  bills,  Liszt  played  an  accompaniment  to 
John  Parry's  Inchape  Bell,  sung  by  the  author,  in 
which  he  introduced  an  extemporaneous  storm, 
which  had  a  most  terrific  effect.'  We  can  well 
believe  it.  This  storm  was  not  'a  local  dis- 
turbance,* as  meteorologists  would  say,  but  it 
followed  the  party  wherever  they  went,  and  it  was 
doubtless  received  with  thunderous  applause. 

"In  November,  a  second  and  more  extended 
tour,  also  imder  Lavenu's  auspices,  was  under- 
taken, and  the  journey  embraced  the  great  pro- 
vincial towns  of  England,  Ireland,  and  Scotland. 
The  preliminary  announcement  was  couched  in 
terms  more  or  less  pungent: 

"  'Mr.  Lavenu  with  his  corps musicale will  enter 
the  lists  again  on  the  23d  instant,  when  it  is  to 
be  hoped  the  listless  provinces  will  listen  with 
more  attention  than  on  his  last  experiment,  or  he 
will  have  enlisted  his  talented  list  to  very  little 
purpose.' 

"Liszt  again  appeared  in  London  in  1841,  and 
took  the  town  by  storm.  Musical  critics  of  the 
present  day  may  be  glad  to  enlarge  their  vocab- 
ulary from  the  following  notice,  which  appeared 
in  the  columns  of  the  Musical  World  of  sixty 
years  ago: 

"  'M.  Liszt's  Recitals.  —  We  walk  through  this 

world  in  the  midst  of  so  many  wonders,  that  our 

senses  become  indifferent  to  the  most  amazing 

things:   light  and  life,  the  ocean,  the  forest,  the 

310 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

voice  and  flight  of  the  pigmy  lark,  are  unheeded 
commonplaces;  and  it  is  only  when  some  comet, 
some  giant,  some  tiger-tamer,  some  new  Niagara, 
some  winged  being  (mental  or  bodily,  and  un- 
classed  in  the  science  of  ornithology)  appears, 
that  our  obdurate  faculties  are  roused  into  the 
consciousness  that  miracles  do  exist.  Of  the  mir- 
acle genus  is  M.  Liszt,  the  Polyphemus  of  the 
pianoforte  —  the  Aurora  Borealis  of  musical 
effulgence  —  the  Niagara  of  thundering  harmo- 
nies! His  rapidity  of  execution,  his  power,  his 
delicacy,  his  Briareus-handed  chords,  and  the  ex- 
traordinary volume  of  sound  he  wrests  from  the 
instrument,  are  each  and  all  philosophies  in  their 
way  that  might  well  puzzle  all  but  a  philosopher 
to  unriddle  and  explain.' 

"Shortly  before  the  'recitals'  above  referred 
to,  Liszt  was  thrown  out  of  a  carriage,  and  the 
accident  resulted  in  a  sprained  wrist.  At  the 
performance,  he  apologised  in  French  to  the 
audience  *  for  his  inability  to  play  all  the  pieces 
advertised.' 

"It  is  strange,  but  true,  that  no  less  than  forty- 
five  years  had  come  and  gone  before  Liszt  again 
set  foot  on  Albion's  shores.  In  the  year  t886, 
aged  seventy-five,  he  came  again,  and  charmed 
everybody  with  the  geniality  of  his  presence. 

"It  was  at  the  invitation  of  the  late  Mr.  Henry 
Littleton  (then  head  of  the  firm  of  Novello  &  Co.) 
that  Liszt  paid  his  last  visit  to  England  in  1886. 
The  great  pianist  arrived  on  May  3,  and  remained 
under  Mr.  Littleton's  hospitable  roof  at  West- 

3" 


FRANZ  LISZT 

wood  House,  Sydenham,  during  the  whole  of  his 
sojourn  in  this  country.  The  events  of  those 
seventeen  days  were  a  series  of  triumphs  to  the 
grand  old  man  of  pianists.  A  command  visit 
to  Windsor  Castle,  when  he  played  to  Queen 
Victoria;  dining  with  the  Prince  and  Princess 
of  Wales  at  Marlborough  House;  a  visit  to  the 
Baroness  Burdett  Coutts;  attending  perform- 
ances of  his  oratorio  St.  Elisabeth  (conducted 
by  Sir,  then  Mr.  A.  C.  Mackenzie)  at  St.  James's 
Hall  and  the  Crystal  Palace;  concerts  of  Chev. 
Leonard  E.  Bach;  the  Royal  Amateur  Orchestral 
Society  (when  he  was  seated  next  to  the  king, 
then  Prince  of  Wales) ;  Monday  Popular;  piano- 
forte recitals  by  Mr.  Frederic  Lamond  and  Herr 
Stavenhagen;  a  visit  to  the  Royal  Academy  of 
Music;  in  addition  to  receptions  given  by  his 
devoted  pupil  and  attached  friend,  the  late 
Walter  Bache  at  the  Grosvenor  Gallery,  and  the 
'at  homes'  of  his  host  and  hostess  at  Westwood 
House. 

"As  an  indication  of  the  general  interest 
aroused  by  the  coming  of  Liszt,  Punch  burst 
forth  in  the  following  strain: 

"  *  A  Brilliant  Variation.  —  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lit- 
tleton's reception  of  the  Abbe  Franz  Liszt,  at 
Westwood  House,  Saturday  night  last,  was  an 
event  never  to  be  forgotten.  But  it  was  not  until 
all  the  Great  'uns  had  left  the  Littletons  that  the 
Greatest  of  them  all  sat  at  the  piano  in  the  midst 
of  a  cosy  and  select  circle,  and  then,  when  Mr. 
P-nch  had  put  on  his  Liszt  slippers  .  .  .  but  to 
312 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

say  more  were  a  breach  of  hospitality.  Suffice  it 
that  on  taking  up  his  sharp-and-flat  candlestick 
in  a  perfectly  natural  manner  the  Abbe,  embrac- 
ing Mr.  P-nch,  sobbed  out,  "  This  is  the  Abb^'ist 
evening  I've  ever  had.  Au  plaisir!"  —  {Extract 
from  a  Distinguished  Guest's  Diary.  Privately 
communicated.)' 

"Although  he  was  in  his  seventy-sixth  year  at 
the  time  of  this,  his  last  sojourn  in  England,  his 
pianoforte  technic  astonished  those  who  were 
capable  to  form  an  opinion,  and  who  were  amazed 
that  he  did  not  'smash  the  pianoforte,  like  his 
pupils!'  He  was  immensely  gratified  at  his 
visit,  and  in  parting  with  Mr.  Alfred  and  Mr. 
Augustus  Littleton,  at  Calais,  he  said:  *If  I 
should  live  two  years  longer  I  will  certainly  visit 
England  again!'  But  alas!  a  little  more  than 
three  months  after  he  had  said  'Good-bye'  to 
these  friends,  Franz  Liszt  closed  his  long,  event- 
ful, and  truly  artistic  career  at  Bayreuth  on 
July  31,  1886.  Professor  Niecks  said,  'Liszt 
has  lived  a  noble  life.  Let  us  honour  his  mem- 
ory.' " 

EDVARD  GRIEG 

Grieg  himself  played  his  piano  concerto  at  a 
Leipsic  Gewandhaus  concert  in  1879,  but  it  had 
already  been  heard  in  the  same  hall  as  early  as 
February  22,  1872,  when  Miss  Erika  Lie  played 
it,  and  the  work  was  announced  as  new  and  "  in 
manuscript."     Before  this  time  Grieg  had  shown 

3^3 


FRANZ  LISZT 

the  concerto  to  Liszt.  The  story  is  told  in  a  let- 
ter of  Grieg  quoted  in  Henry  T.  Finck's  biog- 
raphy of  the  composer: 

"I  had  fortunately  just  received  the  manu- 
script of  my  pianoforte  concerto  from  Leipsic, 
and  took  it  with  me.  Besides  myself  there  were 
present  Winding,  Sgambati,  and  a  German  Liszt- 
ite  whose  name  I  do  not  know,  but  who  goes  so 
far  in  the  aping  of  his  idol  that  he  even  wears 
the  gown  of  an  abbe;  add  to  these  a  Chevalier 
de  Concilium  and  some  young  ladies  of  the  kind 
that  would  like  to  eat  Liszt,  skin,  hair,  and  all, 
their  adulation  is  simply  comical.  .  .  .  Winding 
and  I  were  very  anxious  to  see  if  he  would  really 
play  my  concerto  at  sight.  I,  for  my  part,  con- 
sidered it  impossible;  not  so  Liszt.  'Will  you 
play?'  he  asked,  and  I  made  haste  to  reply: 
'No,  I  cannot'  (you  know  I  have  never  practised 
it).  Then  Liszt  took  the  manuscript,  went  to 
the  piano,  and  said  to  the  assembled  guests,  with 
his  characteristic  smile,  'Very  well,  then,  I  will 
show  you  that  I  also  cannot.'  With  that  he  be- 
gan. I  admit  that  he  took  the  first  part  of  the 
concerto  too  fast,  and  the  beginning  consequently 
sounded  helter-skelter;  but  later  on,  when  I  had 
a  chance  to  indicate  the  tempo,  he  played  as  only 
he  can  play.  It  is  significant  that  he  played  the 
cadenza,  the  most  difficult  part,  best  of  all.  His 
demeanour  is  worth  any  price  to  see.  Not  con- 
tent with  playing,  he  at  the  same  time  converses 
and  makes  comments,  addressing  a  bright  re- 
mark now  to  one,  now  to  another  of  the  as- 

314 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

sembled  guests,  nodding  significantly  to  the  right 
or  left,  particularly  when  something  pleases  him. 
In  the  adagio,  and  still  more  in  the  finale,  he 
reached  a  climax  both  as  to  his  playing  and  the 
praise  he  had  to  bestow. 

"A  really  divine  episode  I  must  not  forget. 
Toward  the  end  of  the  finale  the  second  theme  is, 
as  you  may  remember,  repeated  in  a  mighty  for- 
tissimo. In  the  very  last  measures,  when  in  the 
first  triplets  the  first  tone  is  changed  in  the  or- 
chestra from  G  sharp  to  G,  while  the  pianoforte, 
in  a  mighty  scale  passage,  rushes  wildly  through 
the  whole  reach  of  the  keyboard,  he  suddenly 
stopped,  rose  up  to  his  full  height,  left  the  piano, 
and,  with  big  theatric  strides  and  arms  uplifted, 
walked  across  the  large  cloister  hall,  at  the  same 
time  literally  roaring  the  theme.  When  he  got 
to  the  G  in  question,  he  stretched  out  his  arms 
imperiously  and  exclaimed:  *  G,  G,  not  G  sharp! 
Splendid!  That  is  the  real  Swedish  Banko!'  to 
which  he  added  very  softly,  as  in  a  parenthesis: 
'  Smetana  sent  me  a  sample  the  other  day.'  He 
went  back  to  the  piano,  repeated  the  whole 
strophe,  and  finished.  In  conclusion,  he  handed 
me  the  manuscript  and  said,  in  a  peculiarly  cor- 
dial tone:  'Fahren  Sie  fort;  ich  sage  Ihnen,  Sie 
haben  das  Zeug  dazu,  und  —  lassen  Sie  sich 
nicht  abschrecken ! '  ('Keep  steadily  on;  I  tell 
you,  you  have  the  capability,  and  —  do  not  let 
them  intimidate  you!') 

"This  final  admonition  was  of  tremendous  im- 
portance to  me;  there  was  something  in  it  that 

315 


FRANZ  LISZT 

seemed  to  give  it  an  air  of  sanctification.  At 
times  when  disappointment  and  bitterness  are 
in  store  for  me,  I  shall  recall  his  words,  and  the 
remembrance  of  that  hour  will  have  a  wonderful 
power  to  uphold  me  in  days  of  adversity." 

RICHARD  HOFFMAN'S  RECOLLECTIONS 

"I  think  it  was  in  1840  or  1841,  in  Manchester, 
that  I  first  heard  Liszt,  then  a  young  man  of 
twenty-eight,"  wrote  the  late  Richard  Hoffman 
in  Scrihnefs  Magazine.  "At  that  time  he 
played  only  bravura  piano  compositions,  such  as 
the  Hexameron  and  Hungarian  March  of  Schu- 
bert, in  C  minor,  arranged  by  himself.  I  recol- 
lect his  curious  appearance,  his  tall,  lank  figure, 
buttoned  up  in  a  frock  coat,  very  much  em- 
broidered with  braid,  and  his  long,  light  hair 
brushed  straight  down  below  his  collar.  He  was 
not  at  that  time  a  general  favourite  in  England, 
and  I  remember  that  on  this  occasion  there  was 
rather  a  poor  house.  A  criticism  of  this  concert 
which  I  have  preserved  from  the  Manchester 
Morning  Post  will  give  an  idea  of  his  wonder- 
ful playing.  After  some  introduction  it  goes  on 
to  say:  'He  played  with  velocity  and  impetuosity 
indescribable,  and  yet  with  a  facile  grace  and 
pliancy  that  made  his  efforts  seem  rather  like  the 
flight  of  thought  than  the  result  of  mechanical 
exertion,  thus  investing  his  execution  with  a  char- 
acter more  mental  than  physical,  and  making 
genius  give  elevation  to  art.  One  of  the  most 
316 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

electrifying  points  of  his  performance  was  the 
introduction  of  a  sequence  of  thirds  in  scales, 
descending  with  unexampled  rapidity;  and  an- 
other, the  volume  of  tone  which  he  rolled  forth 
in  the  execution  of  a  double  shake.  The  rapture 
of  the  audience  knew  no  bounds,'  etc.  I  fancied 
I  saw  the  piano  shake  and  tremble  under  the 
force  of  his  blows  in  the  Hungarian  March.  I 
regret  that  I  never  had  an  opportunity  of  hear- 
ing him  later  in  life,  when  I  am  sure  I  should 
have  had  more  pleasure  both  in  his  playing  and 
his  programmes.  He  had  appeared  some  sixteen 
years  before  in  Manchester,  in  1824,  as  a  youth- 
ful phenomenon,  in  an  engagement  made  for 
him  by  Mr.  Andrew  Ward,  my  father's  partner. 
He  stayed  at  his  house  while  there,  as  the  follow- 
ing letter  specifies;  both  letters  form  part  of  a 
correspondence  between  Mr.  Ward  and  the  elder 
Liszt  on  this  matter. 

"  'London,  July  29,  1824. 

"  'Dear  Sir:  In  answer  to  your  letter  of  the 
27  th  inst.  I  beg  to  inform  you  that  I  wish  my  Son 
to  play  as  follows:  viz:  —  At  the  first  concert,  a 
grand  Concerto  for  the  Piano  Forte  with  orches- 
tral accompaniment  composed  by  Hummel,  and 
the  Fall  of  Paris  also  with  grand  orchestral  ac- 
companiment composed  by  Moscheles. 

"'At  the  2d  Concert  —  Variations  with  or- 
chestral accompaniments  composed  by  Charles 
Czerni,  and  afterwards  an  Extempore  Fantasia 
on  a  written  Thema  which  Master  Liszt  will  re- 

317 


FRANZ  LISZT 

spectfully  request  any  person  of  the  Company  to 
give  him. 

"  'We  intend  to  start  to-morrow  afternoon  at 
three  o'clock  by  the  Telegraph  Coach  from  the 
White  Horse  Fetter  lane,  and  as  we  are  entire 
strangers  to  Manchester  it  will  be  very  agreeable 
to  us  if  you  will  send  some  one  to  meet  us. 

"  *M.  Erard's  pianoforte  will  be  in  your  town 
on  Sunday  morning  as  I  shall  be  glad  for  my  son 
to  play  upon  that  instrument. 

"  *I  remain,  Dear  Sir, 

"  'Yr.  very  humble  Servant, 

"  'Liszt.* 

"  '  15  Gt.  Marlborough  Street, 
"  ^  July  22,  1824. 

"  'Mr.  Liszt  presents  his  compliments  to  Mr. 
Roe  and  begs  to  say,  that  the  terms  upon  which 
he  will  take  his  son  to  Manchester  to  play  at  the 
concerts  of  the  second  and  fourth  of  August  next 
will  be  as  follows: 

"  '  Mr.  Liszt  is  to  receive  one  hundred  pounds 
and  be  provided  with  board  and  lodgings  in  Mr. 
Ward's  house  during  his  stay  in  Manchester  for 
his  son  and  himself,  and  Mr.  Liszt  will  pay  the 
travelling  expenses  to  and  from  Manchester.'  " 


318 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

HENRY  REEVES 

In  Henry  Reeves's  biography  I  found  this  about 
Liszt: 

"Liszt  had  already  played  a  great  fantasia  of 
his  own,  and  Beethoven's  Twenty-seventh  Sonata 
in  the  former  part  of  the  concert.  After  this  lat- 
ter piece  he  gasped  with  emotion  as  I  took  his 
hand  and  thanked  him  for  the  divine  energy  he 
had  shed  forth.  At  last  I  managed  to  pierce  the 
crowd,  and  I  sat  in  the  orchestra  before  the 
Duchesse  de  Rauzan's  box,  talking  to  her  Grace 
and  Madame  de  Circourt,  who  was  there.  My 
chair  was  on  the  same  board  as  Liszt's  piano 
when  the  final  piece  began.  It  was  a  duet  for 
two  instruments,  beginning  with  Mendelssohn's 
Chants  sans  Paroles  and  proceeding  to  a  work 
of  Liszt's.  We  had  already  passed  that  delicious 
chime  of  the  Song  Written  in  a  Gondola,  and  the 
gay  tendrils  of  sound  in  another  lighter  piece, 
which  always  reminded  me  of  an  Italian  vine, 
when  Mrs.  Handley  played  it  to  us.  As  the  clos- 
ing strains  began  I  saw  Liszt's  countenance  as- 
sume that  agony  of  expression,  mingled  with  ra- 
diant smiles  of  joy,  which  I  never  saw  in  any  other 
human  face  except  in  the  paintings  of  our  Saviour 
by  some  of  the  early  masters;  his  hands  rushed 
over  the  keys,  the  floor  on  which  I  sat  shook  like 
a  wire,  and  the  whole  audience  were  wrapped  in 
sound,  when  the  hand  and  frame  of  the  artist 
gave  way.  He  fainted  in  the  arms  of  the  friend 
who  was  turning  over  for  him,  and  we  bore  him 

319 


FRANZ  LISZT 

out  in  a  strong  fit  of  hysterics.  The  effect  of  this 
scene  was  really  dreadful.  The  whole  room  sat 
breathless  with  fear,  till  Hiller  came  forward  and 
announced  that  Liszt  was  already  restored  to 
consciousness  and  was  comparatively  well  again. 
As  I  handed  Madame  de  Circourt  to  her  carriage 
we  both  trembled  like  poplar  leaves,  and  I 
tremble  scarcely  less  as  I  write." 

LISZT'S  CONVERSION 

"Have  you  read  the  story  of  Liszt's  conversion 
as  told  by  Emile  Bergerat  in  Le  Livre  de  Cali- 
ban?" asks  Philip  Hale.  "I  do  not  remember 
to  have  seen  it  in  EngHsh,  and  in  the  dearth  of 
musical  news  the  story  may  amuse.  I  shall  not 
attempt  to  translate  it  literally,  or  even  English 
it  with  a  watchful  eye  on  Bergerat's  individual- 
ity. This  is  a  paraphrase,  not  even  a  pale, 
literal  translation  of  a  brilliant  original. 

The  Conversion 

OF 

The  Abbe  Liszt 

"And  so  he  will  not  play  any  more. 

"Well,  a  pianist  cannot  keep  on  playing  forever, 
and  if  Liszt  had  not  promised  to  stop,  the  Pope 
would  never  have  pardoned  him  —  no,  never. 
For  the  pianist  turned  priest  because  he  was  re- 
morseful, horror-stricken  at  the  thought  of  his 
abuse  of  the  piano.     His  conversion  is  a  matter  of 

320 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

history.  When  one  takes  Orders,  he  swears  to 
renounce  Satan,  his  gauds  and  his  works  —  that 
is  to  say,  the  piano. 

"If  he  should  play  he'd  be  a  renegade.  Of 
course  he  longs  to  touch  the  keys.  His  daddy- 
long-legs-fingers  itch,  and  he  doesn't  know  what 
to  do  with  them.  But  an  apostate?  Perish  the 
thought!  And  apostasy  grins  at  him;  lurks  in 
the  metronome  with  its  flicflac.  Here's  what  I 
call  a  dramatic  situation. 

"  Wretched  Ahh6 !  Never  more  will  you  smash 
white  or  black  keys;  never  more  will  you  dance 
on  the  angry  pedals;  O  never,  never  more!  Do 
you  not  hear  the  croaking  of  Poe's  raven? 
Never  again,  O  Father,  will  you  tire  the  rose- 
wood! Good-bye  to  tumbling  scales  and  pyro- 
technical  arpeggios!  Thus  must  you  do  pen- 
ance. The  president  of  the  Immortals  does  not 
love  piano  playing.  He  scowls  on  pianists.  He 
condemns  them  to  thump  throughout  eternity. 
In  Dante's  hell  there  is  a  dumb  piano,  and  Luci- 
fer sees  to  it  that  they  practice  without  ceasing. 

"I  am  naturally  tender-hearted,  but  I  approve 
of  this  eternal  punishment. 

"Yes,  Father  Liszt,  because  the  piano  is  not  in 
the  scheme  of  Nature.  Even  in  Society  the  fewer 
the  pianos  the  greater  the  merriment.  If  the 
piano  were  really  a  thing  in  Nature  the  good  Lord 
would  have  taken  at  least  ten  minutes  of  the 
seven  days  and  designed  a  model.  But  the  piano 
never  occurred  to  Him.  Now,  as  everything, 
existing  or  to  exist,  was  foreseen  by  him,  and  a 
321 


FRANZ  LISZT 

part  of  Him  (that  is,  according  to  the  dogma) ,  I 
am  inclined  to  think  He  was  afraid  of  the  piano. 
He  recoiled  at  the  responsibility  of  creating  it. 
And  yet  the  machine  exists! 

"A  syllogism  leads  us  to  declare  that  the  piano 
is  an  after-thought.  Of  whom  ?  Why,  Satan  of 
course.  A  grim  joke  of  Satan.  The  piano  is  the 
enemy  of  man.  Liszt  finally  discovered  this, 
though  he  was  just  a  little  late.  So  he  will  only 
go  to  Purgatory,  and  in  Purgatory  there  are  no 
dumb  pianos.  But  there  are  organs  without 
pipes,  without  bellows,  and  many  have  pulled 
the  stops  in  vain  for  centuries.  I  earnestly  be- 
seech you,  my  Father,  to  accumulate  indul- 
gences. 

"They  tell  many  stories  about  the  conversions 
of  Abbd  Liszt,  and  how  he  found  out  that  the 
piano  is  the  enemy  of  humanity.  Lo,  here  is  the 
truth.  He  once  gave  a  concert  in  a  town  where 
there  were  many  dogs.  He  was  then  exceedingly 
absent-minded;  he  mistook  the  date  and  ap- 
peared the  night  before.  Extraordinary  to  relate, 
there  was  no  one  in  the  hall,  although  the  con- 
cert was  announced  for  the  next  day!  Liszt  sat 
down  nevertheless,  and  played  for  his  own  amuse- 
ment. The  efiFect  was  prodigious,  as  George 
Sand  told  us  in  her  Lettres  d'un  Voyageur.  The 
dogs  ran  to  the  noise  —  curs,  water  spaniels, 
poodles,  greyhounds  —  all  the  dogs,  including 
the  yellow  outcast.  They  all  howled  fearfully, 
and  they  would  fain  have  fleshed  their  teeth  in 
the  pianist. 

322 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

"Then  Liszt  reasoned  —  in  his  fashion: '  Since 
the  dog  is  the  friend  of  man,  if  he  abominates  the 
piano  it  is  because  his  instinct  tells  him,  "  the  pi- 
ano is  my  friend's  enemy!'"  Professor  Jevons 
might  not  have  approved  the  conclusion,  but 
Liszt  saw  no  flaw. 

"And  then  a  sculptor  wished  to  make  a  statue 
of  Liszt.  He  hewed  him  as  he  sat  before  a  piano, 
and  he  included  the  instrument.  It  was  nat- 
urally a  grand  piano,  one  lent  by  Madame  Erard 
expressly  for  the  occasion.  Liszt  went  to  the 
studio,  saw  the  clay,  and  turned  green. 

"  'Where  did  you  get  such  a  ghastly  idea?'  he 
asked,  and  his  voice  trembled.  *You  represent 
me  as  playing  a  music  coflSn.* 

"  *  What's  that  ?  I  have  copied  nature.  Is  not 
the  shape  exact?' 

"  *  Horribly,'  said  Liszt.  *  And  thus,  thus  shall 
I  appear  to  posterity!  I  shall  be  seen  hanging 
by  my  nails  to  this  funereal  box,  a  virtuoso,  fero- 
cious, with  dishevelled  hair,  raising  the  dead  and 
digging  a  grave  at  the  same  time  I  The  idea  puts 
me  in  a  cold  sweat!' 

"The  sculptor  smiled.  *I  can  substitute  an 
upright.' 

"  '  Then  I  should  seem  to  be  scratching  a  mum- 
my case.  They  would  take  me  for  an  Egyptol- 
ogist at  his  sacrilegious  work.' 

"Homeward  he  fled.  In  his  own  room  he  ar- 
ranged the  mirrors  so  that  he  could  see  himself 
in  all  positions  while  he  was  plying  his  hellish 
trade.    And  then  salvation  came  to  him.    He 

323 


FRANZ  LISZT 

saw  that  the  machine  was  demoniacal,  that  it  re- 
called nothing  in  the  fauna  or  the  flora  of  the  good 
Lord,  that  the  sculptor  was  right,  that  the  piano 
had  the  appearance  of  the  sure  box,  in  which 
occurs  vague  metempsychosis,  that  is  if  the  box 
only  had  a  jaw.  He  was  horror-stricken  at  his 
past  life.  Frightened,  his  soul  tormented  by 
doubt,  it  seemed  to  him  that  from  under  the 
eighty-five  molars,  which  he  snatched  hurriedly 
from  the  shrieking  piano,  Astaroth  darted  his 
tongue.  He  ran  to  Rome  and  threw  himself  at 
the  Pope's  feet,  imploring  exorcism. 

"The  confession  lasted  three  days  and  three 
nights.  The  possessed  could  not  get  to  an  end. 
There  were  crimes  which  the  Pope  himself  knew 
nothing  about,  which  he  had  never  heard  men- 
tioned, professional  crimes,  crimes  peculiar  to 
pianists,  horrid  crimes  in  keys  natural  and  un- 
natural!   This  confession  is  still  celebrated. 

"  'Holy  Father,'  cried  the  wretch,  'you  do  not, 
you  cannot  know  everything!  There  are  pian- 
ists and  pianists.  You  believe  that  the  piano, 
as  diabolical  as  it  is,  whether  it  be  a  Pleyel  or  an 
Erard,  cannot  give  out  more  noise  than  it  holds. 
You  believe  that  he  who  makes  it  exhibit  in  full 
its  terrible  proportions  is  the  strongest,  and  that 
piano  playing  has  human  limitations.  Alas, 
alas!  You  say  to  yourself  when  in  an  apart- 
ment house  of  seven  stories  the  seven  tenants  give 
notice  simultaneously  to  the  trembling  landlord, 
it  makes  no  difference  whether  the  cause  of  the 
desperate  flight  is  named  Saint-Saens,  Pugno  or 

324 


MIRRORED  BY  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES 

Chabrier.  The  tenants  run  because  the  piano 
gives  forth  all  that  is  inside  of  it,  and  the  inani- 
mate is  acutely  animate.  How  Your  Holiness  is 
deceived.     There's  a  still  lower  depth!' 

"Liszt  smote  his  breast  thrice,  and  continued: 
'I  know  a  man  (or  is  it  indeed  a  human  being?) 
who  never  quitted  the  sonorous  coffin  until  the 
entire  street  in  which  he  raged  had  emigrated. 
And  yet  he  had  only  ten  fingers  on  his  hands,  as 
you  and  I,  and  never  did  he  use  his  toes.  This 
monster,  Holy  Father,  is  at  your  feet ! ' 

"Pius  IX  shivered  with  fright.  *Go  on,  my 
son,  the  mercy  of  God  is  unbounded.' 

"Then  Liszt  accused  himself: 

"Of  having  by  Sabbatic  concerts  driven  the 
half  of  civilised  Europe  mad,  while  the  other 
half  returned  to  Chopin  and  Thalberg. 

"('There's  Rubinstein,'  said  Pius,  and  he 
smiled.)  Liszt  pretended  not  to  hear  him,  and 
he  continued: 

" '  My  Father,  I  have  encouraged  the  trade  in 
shrill  mahogany,  noisy  rosewood  and  shrieking 
ebony  in  the  five  parts  of  the  acoustic  world,  so 
that  at  this  very  moment  there  is  not  a  single 
ajoupa  or  a  single  thatched  hut  among  savages 
that  is  without  a  piano.  Even  wild  men  are  be- 
ginning to  manufacture  pianos,  and  they  give 
them  as  wedding  gifts  to  their  daughters.' 

"('Just  as  it  is  in  Europe,'  said  the  Pope.) 

"'And  also,'  added  Liszt,  'with  instructions 
how  to  use  them.     Mea  culpa!' 

"Then  he  confessed  that  apes  unable  to  scram- 

325 


FRANZ  LISZT 

ble  through  a  scale  were  rare  in  virgin  forests; 
that  travellers  told  of  elephants  who  played  with 
their  trunks  the  Carnival  of  Venice  variations; 
and  it  was  he,  Franz  Liszt,  that  had  served  them 
as  a  model.  The  plague  of  universal  "  pianisme  " 
had  spread  from  pole  to  pole.  Mea  culpa !  Mea 
culpa! 

"  Overcome  with  shame,  he  wished  to  finish  his 
confession  at  the  piano.  But  Pius  IX  had  antic- 
ipated him.  There  was  no  piano  in  the  Vatican. 
In  all  Christendom,  the  Pope  was  the  only  one 
without  a  boxed  harp. 

"'Ah!  you  are  indeed  the  Pope!'  cried  Liszt 
as  he  knelt  before  him. 

"A  little  after  this  Liszt  took  Orders.  They 
that  speak  without  intelligence  started  the  ru- 
mour that  it  was  at  La  Trappe.  But  at  La 
Trappe  there  is  a  piano,  and  Liszt  swore  to  the 
Holy  Father  that  he  would  never  touch  one. 

"To-day  the  world  breathes  freely.  The  mon- 
ster has  been  disarmed  and  exorcised. 

"Now  when  Liszt  sees  a  piano  he  approaches  it 
with  curiosity  and  asks  the  use  of  that  singular 
article  of  furniture. 

"It  is  true  there's  one  in  his  room,  but  he  keeps 
his  cassocks  in  it" 


326 


VII 

IN  THE  FOOTSTEPS  OF  LISZT 
I 

WEIMAR 

After  rambling  over  Weimar  and  burrowing 
in  the  Liszt  museum,  one  feels  tempted  to  pro- 
nounce Liszt  the  happiest  of  composers,  as  Yeats 
calls  William  Morris  the  happiest  poet.  A  career 
without  parallel,  a  victorious  general  at  the  head 
of  his  ivory  army;  a  lodestone  for  men  and 
women;  a  poet,  diplomat,  ecclesiastic,  man  of  the 
world,  with  the  sunny  nature  of  a  child,  loved  by 
all,  envious  of  no  one  —  surely  the  fates  forgot 
to  spin  evil  threads  at  the  cradle  of  Franz  Liszt. 
And  he  was  not  a  happy  man  for  all  that. 
He,  too,  like  Friedrich  Nietzsche  had  daemonic 
fantasy;  but  for  him  it  was  a  gift,  for  the  other  a 
curse.  Music  is  a  liberation,  and  Nietzsche  of 
all  men  would  have  benefited  by  its  healing  pow- 
ers. 

In  Weimar  Liszt  walked  and  talked,  smoked 
strong  cigars,  played,  prayed  —  for  he  never 
missed  early  mass  —  and  composed.  His  old 
housekeeper,  Frau  Pauline  Apel,  still  a  hale 
woman,  shows,  with  loving  care,  the  memorials 

327 


FRANZ  LISZT 

in  the  little  museum  on  the  first  floor  of  the  Wohn- 
haus,  which  stands  in  the  gardens  of  the  beauti- 
ful ducal  park. 

Here  Goethe  and  Schiller  once  promenaded  in 
a  company  that  has  become  historic.  And  can- 
not Weimar  lay  claim  to  a  Tannhauser  perform- 
ance as  early  as  1849,  the  Lohengrin  production 
in  1850,  and  the  Flying  Dutchman  in  1853  ?  What 
a  collection  of  musical  manuscripts,  trophies, 
jewels,  pictures,  orders,  letters  —  I  saw  one  from 
Charles  Baudelaire  to  Liszt  —  and  testimonials 
from  all  over  the  globe,  which  accumulated  du- 
ring the  career  of  this  extraordinary  man! 

The  Steinway  grand  pianoforte,  once  so  dearly 
prized  by  the  master,  has  been  taken  away  to 
make  room  for  the  many  cases  containing  pre- 
cious gifts  from  sovereigns,  the  scores  of  the 
Christus,  Faust  Symphony,  Orpheus,  Hungaria, 
Berg  Symphony,  Totentanz,  and  Festklange.  But 
the  old  instrument  upon  which  he  played  years 
ago  still  stands  in  one  of  the  rooms.  Marble 
casts  of  Liszt's,  Beethoven's,  and  Chopin's  hands 
are  on  view;  also  Liszt's  hand  firmly  clasping  the 
slender  fingers  of  the  Princess  Sayn- Wittgenstein. 
Like  Chopin,  Liszt  attracted  princesses  as  sugar 
buzzing  flies. 

There  is  a  new  Weimar  —  not  so  wonderful 
as  the  two  old  Weimars  —  the  Weimar  of  Anna 
Amalia  and  Karl  August,  of  Goethe,  Wieland, 
Herder,  and  Schiller,  Johanna  Schopenhauer 
and  her  sullen  son  Arthur,  the  pessimistic  phi- 
328 


Pauline  Apel 

Liszt's  housekeeper  at  Weiinar 


IN  THE  FOOTSTEPS  OF  LISZT 

losopher  —  and  not  the  old  Weimar  of  Franz 
Liszt  and  his  brilliant  cohort  of  disciples;  never- 
theless, a  new  Weimar,  its  intellectual  rallying- 
point  the  home  of  Elisabeth  Foerster-Nietzsche, 
the  tiny  and  lovable  sister  of  the  great  dead  poet- 
philosopher,  Friedrich  Nietzsche. 

To  drift  into  this  delightful  Thuringian  town; 
to  stop  at  some  curious  old  inn  with  an  eighteenth 
century  name  like  the  Hotel  Zum  Elephant;  to 
walk  slowly  under  the  trees  of  the  ducal  park, 
catching  on  one  side  a  glimpse  of  Goethe's  garden 
house,  on  the  other  Liszt's  summer  home,  where 
gathered  the  most  renowned  musicians  of  the 
globe  —  these  and  many  other  sights  and  rem- 
iniscences will  interest  the  passionate  pilgrim  — 
interest  and  thrill.  If  he  be  bent  upon  exploring 
the  past  glories  of  the  Goethe  regime  there  are 
bountiful  opportunities;  the  Goethe  residence, 
the  superb  Goethe  and  Schiller  archives,  the 
ducal  library,  the  garden  house,  the  Belvidere 
—  here  we  may  retrace  all  the  steps  of  that  noble, 
calm  Greek  existence  from  robust  young  man- 
hood to  the  very  chamber  wherein  the  octoge- 
narian uttered  his  last  cry  of  "More  light!"  a  cry 
that  not  only  symbolised  his  entire  career,  but  has 
served  since  as  a  watchword  for  poetry,  science, 
and  philosophy. 

If  you  are  musical,  is  there  not  the  venerable 
opera-house  wherein  more  than  a  half  century 
ago  Lohengrin,  thanks  to  the  incredible  friend- 
ship and  labour  of  Franz  Liszt,  was  first  given 
a  hearing  ?    And  this  same  opera-house — now  no 

329 


FRANZ  LISZT 

more  —  is  a  theatre  that  fairly  exhales  memories 
of  historic  performances  and  unique  dramatic 
artists.  Once  Goethe  resigned  because  against 
his  earnest  protest  a  performing  dog  was  allowed 
to  appear  upon  the  classic  boards  which  first  saw 
the  masterpieces  of  Goethe  and  Schiller. 

But  the  new  Weimar!  During  the  last  decade 
whether  the  spot  has  a  renewed  fascination  for 
the  artistic  Germans  or  because  of  its  increased 
commercial  activities,  Weimar  has  worn  another 
and  a  brighter  face.  The  young  Grand  Duke 
Ernst,  while  never  displaying  a  marked  prefer- 
ence for  intellectual  pursuits,  is  a  liberal  ruler, 
as  befits  his  blood. 

Great  impetus  has  been  given  to  manufactur- 
ing interests,  and  the  city  is  near  enough  to  Ber- 
lin to  benefit  by  both  its  distance  and  proximity. 
Naturally,  the  older  and  conservative  inhabitants 
are  horrified  by  the  swift  invasion  of  unsightly 
chimneys,  of  country  disappearing  before  the 
steady  encroachment  of  railroads,  mills,  foun- 
dries, and  other  unpicturesque  but  very  useful 
buildings.  And  the  country  about  Weimar  is 
famed  for  its  picturesque  quality  —  Jena,  Tie- 
furt.  Upper  Weimar,  Erfurt,  museums,  castles, 
monuments,  belvideres,  wayside  inns,  wonderful 
roads  overhung  by  great  aged  trees.  But  other 
days,  other  ways. 

Weimar  has  awakened  and  is  no  longer  proud 
to  figure  merely  as  a  museum  of  antiquities. 
With  this  material  growth  there  has  arisen  a  fresh 
movement  in  the  stagnant  waters  of  poetic  and 


IN  THE  FOOTSTEPS   OF  LISZT 

artistic  memories  —  new  ideas,  new  faces,  new 
paths,  new  names.  It  is  a  useless,  though  not 
altogether  an  unpleasant  theme,  to  speculate 
upon  the  different  Weimar  we  would  behold  if 
Richard  Wagner's  original  plan  had  been  put 
into  execution  as  to  the  location  of  his  theatre. 
Most  certainly  Bayreuth  would  be  a  much  duller 
town  than  it  is  to-day  —  and  that  is  saying  much. 
But  emburgessed  prejudices  were  too  much  for 
Wagner,  and  a  stuffy  Bavarian  village  won  his 
preference,  thereby  becoming  historical. 

However,  Weimar  is  not  abashed  or  cast  down. 
A  cluster  of  history-making  names  are  hers,  and 
who  knows,  fifty  years  hence  she  may  be  proud 
to  recall  the  days  when  one  Richard  Strauss  was 
her  local  Kapellmeister  and  that  within  her 
municipal  precincts  died  a  great  poetic  soul,  the 
optimistic  philosopher,  Friedrich  Nietzsche. 

Now,  Weimar  is  the  residence  and  the  resort 
of  a  brilliant  group  of  poets,  dramatists,  novel- 
ists, musicians,  painters,  sculptors,  and  actors. 
Professor  Hans  Olde,  who  presides  over  the  im- 
posing art  galleries  and  art  school,  has  gathered 
about  him  an  enthusiastic  host  of  young  painters 
and  art  students. 

There  have  been  recently  two  notable  exhi- 
bitions, respectively  devoted  to  the  works  of  the 
sculptor-painter.  Max  Klinger,  and  the  French 
sculptor,  Auguste  Rodin.  Nor  is  the  new  ar- 
tistic leaven  confined  to  the  plastic  arts.  Ernst 
von  Wildenbruch,  a  world-known  novelist  and 
dramatist  (since  dead) ;  Baron  Detlev  von  Lilien- 

33^ 


FRANZ  LISZT 

cron,  one  of  Germany's  most  gifted  lyric  poets; 
Richard  Dehmel,  a  poet  of  the  revolutionary 
order,  whose  work  favourably  compares  with  the 
productions  of  the  Parisian  symbolists;  Paul 
Ernst,  poet;  Johannes  Schlaf,  who  a  few  years 
ago  with  Arno  Holz  blazoned  the  way  in  Berlin 
for  Gerhart  Hauptmann  and  the  young  realists 

—  Schlaf  is  the  author  of  several  powerful  novels 
and  plays;  Count  Kessler,  a  cultured  and  ardent 
patron  of  the  fine  arts  and  literature,  and  Profes- 
sor van  de  Velde,  whose  influence  on  architecture 
and  the  industrial  arts  has  been  great,  and  the 
American  painter  Gari  Melchers,  are  all  in  the 
Weimar  circle. 

In  the  summer  Conrad  Ansorge,  a  man  not 
unknown  to  the  New  York  musical  public,  gath- 
ers around  him  in  pious  imitation  of  his  former 
master,  Liszt,  a  class  of  ambitious  pianists.  A 
former  resident  of  New  York,  Max  Vogrich, 
pianist  and  composer,  has  taken  up  his  resi- 
dence at  Weimar.  In  its  opera-house,  which 
boasts  an  excellent  company  of  singers,  actors, 
and  a  good  orchestra,  the  premiere  of  Vogrich's 
opera  Buddha  occurred  in  1903.  Gordon  Craig, 
the  son  of  Ellen  Terry,  often  visits  the  city,  where 
his  scheme  for  the  technical  reform  of  the  stage 

—  lighting,  scenery,  costumes,  and  colours  — 
was  eagerly  appreciated,  as  it  was  in  Berlin,  by 
Otto  Brahm,  director  of  the  Lessing  Theatre. 
Mr.  Craig  is  looked  upon  as  an  advanced  spirit 
in  Germany.  I  wish  I  could  praise  without  crit- 
ical reservation  the  two  new  statues  of  Shake- 

332 


IN  THE  FOOTSTEPS  OF  LISZT 

speare  and  Liszt  which  stand  in  the  park;  but 
neither  one  is  of  consummate  workmanship  or 
conception. 

When  I  received  the  amiable  "command"  of 
Elisabeth  Foerster-Nietzsche,  bidding  me  call 
at  a  fixed  hour  on  a  certain  day,  I  was  quite  con- 
scious of  the  honour;  only  the  true  believers  set 
foot  within  that  artistic  and  altogether  charming 
Mecca  at  the  top  of  the  Luisenstrasse. 

The  lofty  and  richly  decorated  room  where  re- 
pose the  precious  mementos  of  the  dead  thinker 
is  a  singularly  attractive  one  —  it  is  a  true  abode 
of  culture.  Here  Nietzsche  died  in  1900;  here 
he  was  wheeled  out  upon  the  adjacent  balcony, 
from  which  he  had  a  surprising  view  of  the  hilly 
and  delectable  countryside. 

His  sister  and  devoted  biographer  is  a  comely 
little  lady,  vivacious,  intellectual,  bright  of  cheek 
and  eye,  a  creature  of  fire  and  enthusiasm,  more 
Gallic  than  German.  I  could  well  believe  in  the 
legend  of  the  Polish  Nietzskys,  from  whom  the 
philosopher  claimed  descent,  after  listening  to 
her  spirited  discussion  of  matters  that  pertained 
to  her  dead  brother.  His  memory  with  her  is  an 
abidingly  beautiful  one.  She  says  "my  poor 
brother"  with  the  accents  of  one  speaking  of  the 
vanished  gods. 

His  sister  showed  me  all  her  treasures  —  many 
manuscripts  of  early  and  still  unpublished  stud- 
ies; his  original  music,  for  he  composed  much 
during  his  intimacy  with  Richard  Wagner;  the 
grand  pianoforte  with  which  he  soothed  his  tor- 

333 


FRANZ  LISZT 

tured  nerves;  the  stately  bust  executed  by  Max 
Klinger;  the  painful  portrait  etched  by  Hans 
Olde,  and  many  other  souvenirs. 

Mrs.  Foerster-Nietzsche,  who  once  lived  in 
South  America  —  she  speaks  English,  French, 
and  Italian  fluently  —  assured  me  that  she  sin- 
cerely regretted  the  premature  publication  in 
English  of  The  Case  of  the  Wagner.  This  book, 
so  terribly  personal,  is  a  record  of  the  disenchant- 
ing experiences  of  a  shattered  friendship. 

Madame  Foerster  spoke  most  feelingly  of  Cos- 
ima  Wagner  and  deplored  the  rupture  of  their  in- 
timate relations.  "  A  marvellous  woman !  a  fas- 
cinating woman!"  she  said  several  times.  What 
with  her  correspondence  in  every  land,  the  publi- 
cation of  the  bulky  biography  and  the  constant 
editing  of  unpublished  essays,  letters  and  memo- 
rabilia, this  rare  sister  of  a  great  man  is,  so  it 
seems  to  me,  overtaxing  her  energies.  The  Niet- 
zsche bibliography  has  assumed  formidable  pro- 
portions, yet  she  is  conversant  with  all  of  it.  A 
second  Henrietta  Renan,  I  thought,  as  I  took  a 
regretful  leave  of  this  very  remarkable  woman, 
not  daring  to  ask  her  when  Nietzsche's  unpub- 
lished autobiography,  Ecce  Homo,  would  be  given 
to  the  world.  (This  was  written  in  1904;  Ecce 
Homo  has  appeared  in  the  meantime.) 

Later,  down  in  the  low-ceilinged  cafd  of  the 
Hotel  zum  Elephant,  I  overheard  a  group  of  cit- 
izens, ofl&cers,  merchants  —  all  cronies  —  discuss- 
ing Weimar.  Nietzsche's  name  was  mentioned, 
and  one  knight  of  this  round  table  —  a  gigantic 

334 


IN  THE  FOOTSTEPS   OF  LISZT 

officer  with  a  button  head  —  contemptuously  ex- 
claimed:—  "Nietzsche  Rauch!"  (smoke).  Yes, 
but  what  a  world-compelling  vapour  is  his  that 
now  winds  in  fantastic  spirals  over  the  romantic 
hills  and  valleys  of  the  new  Weimar  and  thence 
about  the  entire  civilised  globe !  Friedrich  Nietz- 
sche, because  of  his  fiery  poetic  spirit  and  ecstatic 
pantheism,  might  be  called  the  Percy  Bysshe 
Shelley  of  philosophers. 

II 

BUDAPEST 

My  first  evening  in  Budapest  was  a  cascade 
of  surprises.  The  ride  down  from  Vienna  is  not 
cheery  until  the  cathedral  and  palace  of  the  pri- 
mate is  reached,  at  Gran,  a  superb  edifice,  chal- 
lenging the  valley  of  the  Danube.  Interminable 
prairies,  recalling  the  traits  of  our  Western  coun- 
try, swam  around  the  busy  little  train  until  this 
residence  of  the  spiritual  lord  of  Hungary  was 
passed.  After  that  the  scenery  as  far  as  Orsova, 
Belgrade,  and  the  Iron  Gates  is  legendary  in  its 
beauty. 

To  hear  the  real  Hungarian  gipsy  on  his  own 
heath  has  been  long  my  ambition.  In  New  York 
he  is  often  a  domesticated  fowl,  with  ahens  in  his 
company.  But  in  Budapest!  My  hopes  were 
high.  The  combination  of  that  peppery  food, 
paprika  gulyas,  was  also  an  item  not  to  be  over- 
looked.    I  soon  found  an  establishment  where 

335 


FRANZ  LISZT 

the  music  is  the  best  in  Hungary,  the  cooking  of 
the  hottest.  After  the  usual  distracting  tuning 
the  band  splashed  into  a  fierce  prelude. 

Fancy  coming  thousands  of  miles  to  hear  the 
original  of  all  the  cakewalks  and  eat  a  prepara- 
tion that  might  have  been  turned  out  from  a 
Mexican  restaurant!  It  was  too  much.  It  took 
exactly  four  Czardas  and  the  Rakoczy  march  to 
convince  me  that  I  was  not  dreaming  of  Man- 
hattan Beach. 

But  this  particular  band  was  excellent.  Find- 
ing that  some  of  the  listeners  only  wished  for 
gipsy  music,  the  leader  played  the  most  frantically 
bacchanalian  in  his  repertory.  Not  more  than 
eight  men  made  up  the  ensemble !  And  such  an 
ensemble.  It  seemed  to  be  the  ideal  definition 
of  anarchy  —  unity  in  variety.  Not  even  a  Rich- 
ard Strauss  score  gives  the  idea  of  vertical  and 
horizontal  music  —  heard  at  every  point  of  the 
compass,  issuing  from  the  bowels  of  the  earth, 
pouring  down  upon  one's  head  like  a  Tyrolean 
thunderstorm.  Every  voice  was  independent, 
and  syncopated  as  were  the  rhythms.  There 
was  no  raggedness  in  attack  or  cessation. 

Like  a  streak  of  jagged,  blistering  lightning, 
a  tone  would  dart  from  the  double  bass  to  the 
very  scroll  of  the  fiddles.  In  mad  pursuit,  over 
a  country  black  as  Servian  politics  went  the  cym- 
balom,  closely  followed  by  two  clarinets  —  in  B 
and  E  flat.  The  treble  pipe  was  played  by  a 
jeweller  in  disguise  —  he  must  have  been  a  jew- 
eller, so  fond  was  he  of  ornamentation  and  catar- 


IN  THE  FOOTSTEPS   OF  LISZT 

acts  of  pearly  tones.  He  made  a  trelliswork  be- 
hind which  he  attacked  his  foes,  the  string  players. 
In  the  midst  of  all  this  melodic  chaos  the  leader, 
cradling  his  fiddle  like  something  alive,  swayed 
as  sways  a  tall  tree  in  the  gale.  Then  he  left  the 
podium  and  hat  in  hand  collected  white  pieces 
and  kronen.     It  was  disenchanting. 

The  tone  of  the  band  was  more  resilient,  more 
brilliant  than  the  bands  we  hear  in  America. 
And  there  were  more  heart,  fire,  swing  and  dash 
in  their  playing.  The  sapping  melancholy  of 
the  Lassan  and  the  diabolic  vigour  of  the  Friska 
are  things  that  I  shall  never  forget.  These  gip- 
sies have  an  instinctive  sense  of  tempo.  Their 
allegretto  is  a  genuine  allegretto.  They  play  rag- 
time music  with  true  rhythmic  appreciation  for 
the  reason  that  its  metrical  structure  is  grateful 
to  them. 

In  Paris  the  Cakewalk  is  a  thing  of  misunder- 
stood, misapplied  accents.  The  Budapest  ver- 
sion of  the  Rakoczy  march  is  a  revelation.  No 
wonder  Berlioz  borrowed  it.  The  tempo  is  a 
wild  quickstep;  there  is  no  majestic  breadth,  so 
suggestive  of  military  pomp  or  the  grandeur  of  a 
warlike  race.  Instead,  the  music  defiled  by  in 
crazy  squads,  men  breathlessly  clinging  to  the 
saddles  of  their  maddened  steeds;  above  them 
hung  the  haze  of  battle,  and  the  hoarse  shouting 
of  the  warriors  was  heard.  Five  minutes  more 
of  this  excitement  and  heart  disease  might  have 
supervened.  Five  minutes  later  I  saw  the  band 
grinning  over  their  tips,  drinking  and  looking  ab- 

337 


FRANZ  LISZT 

solutely  incapable  of  ever  playing  such  stirring 
and  hyperbolical  music. 

After  these  winged  enchantments  I  was  glad 
enough  to  wander  next  morning  in  the  Hungarian 
Museum,  following  the  history  of  this  proud  and 
glorious  nation,  in  its  armour,  its  weapons,  its 
trophies  of  war  and  its  banners  captured  from  the 
Saracen.  Such  mementos  re-create  a  race.  In 
the  picture  gallery,  a  modest  one,  there  are  some 
interesting  Munkaczys  and  several  Makarts;  also 
many  specimens  of  Hungarian  art  by  Kovacs, 
Zichy  (a  member  of  a  noble  and  talented  fam- 
ily), Szekely,  and  Michael  Zichy's  cartoon  illus- 
trations to  Mddach's  The  Tragedy  of  Mankind. 

Munkaczy's  portrait  of  Franz  Liszt  is  muddy 
and  bituminous.  Two  original  aquarelles  by 
Dor^  were  presented  by  Liszt.  I  was  surprised 
to  find  in  the  modern  Saal  the  Sphynx  of  Franz 
Stuck,  a  sensational  and  gruesome  canvas,  which 
made  a  stir  at  the  time  of  first  hanging  in  the 
Munich  Secession  exhibition.  Budapest  pur- 
chased it;  also  a  very  characteristic  Segantini, 
an  excellent  Otto  Sinding,  and  Hans  Makart's 
Dejanira.  A  beautiful  marble  of  Rodin's  marks 
the  progressive  taste  of  this  artistic  capital. 

It  would  seem  that  even  for  a  municipality  of 
New  York's  magnitude  the  erection  of  such  a 
Hall  of  Justice  and  such  a  Parliament  building 
would  be  a  tax  beyond  its  purse.  Budapest  is 
not  a  rich  city,  but  these  two  public  buildings, 
veritable  palaces,  gorgeously  decorated,  proclaim 
her  as  a  highly  civilised  centre.     The  opera- 

33^ 


IN  THE  FOOTSTEPS  OF  LISZT 

house,  which  seats  only  i,ioo,  is  the  most  per- 
fectly appointed  in  the  world;  its  stage  appar- 
atus is  better  than  Bayreuth's.  And  the  natural 
position  of  the  place  is  unique.  From  the  ram- 
parts of  the  royal  palace  in  Buda  —  old  Ofen 
—  your  eye,  promise-crammed,  sweeps  a  series 
of  fascinating  facades,  churches,  palaces,  gener- 
ous embankments,  while  between  its  walls  the 
Danube  flows  torrentially  down  to  the  mysteri- 
ous lands  where  murder  is  admired  and  thrones 
are  playthings. 

In  the  Liszt  museum  is  the  old,  bucolic  pianino 
upon  which  his  childish  hands  first  rested  at  Raid- 
ing (Dobrjan),  his  birthplace.  His  baton;  the 
cast  of  his  hand  and  of  Chopin's  and  the  famous 
piano  of  Beethoven,  at  which  most  of  the  im- 
mortal sonatas  were  composed,  and  upon  which 
Liszt  Ferencz  played  for  the  great  composer 
shortly  before  his  death  in  1827.  The  little  piano 
has  no  string,  but  the  Beethoven  —  a  Broadwood 
&  Sons,  Golden  Square,  London,  so  the  fall- 
board  reads  —  is  full  of  jangling  wires,  the  keys 
black  with  age.  Liszt  presented  it  to  his  country- 
men —  he  greatly  loved  Budapest  and  taught 
several  months  every  winter  at  the  Academy  of 
Music  in  the  spacious  Andrassy  strasse. 

A  harp,  said  to  have  been  the  instrument  most 
affected  by  Marie  Antoinette,  did  not  give  me  the 
thrill  historic  which  all  right-minded  Yankees 
should  experience  in  strange  lands.  I  would 
rather  see  a  real  live  tornado  in  Kansas  than 
shake  hands  with  the  ghost  of  Napoleon. 

339 


FRANZ  LISZT 

III 
ROME 

The  pianoforte  virtuoso,  Richard  Burmeister, 
and  one  of  Liszt's  genuine  "pet"  pupils,  advised 
me  to  look  at  Liszt's  hotel  in  the  Vicolo  Alibert, 
Rome.  It  is  still  there,  an  old-fashioned  place, 
Hotel  Alibert,  up  an  alley-like  street  off  the  Via 
Babuino,  near  the  Piazza  del  Popolo.  But  it  is 
shorn  of  its  interest  for  melomaniacs,  as  the  view 
commanding  the  Pincio  no  longer  exists.  One 
night  sufficed  me,  though  the  manager  smilingly 
assured  me  that  he  could  show  the  room  wherein 
Liszt  slept  and  studied.  A  big  warehouse  blocks 
the  outlook  on  the  Pincio ;  indeed  the  part  of  the 
hotel  Liszt  inhabited  no  longer  stands.  But  at 
Tivoli,  at  the  Villa  d'Este,  with  its  glorious  vistas 
of  the  Campagna  and  Rome,  there  surely  would 
be  memories  of  the  master.  The  Sunday  I  took 
the  steam-tramway  was  a  threatening  one;  be- 
fore Bagni  was  reached  a  solid  sheet  of  water 
poured  from  an  implacable  leaden  sky.  It  was 
not  a  cheerful  prospect  for  a  Liszt-hunter.  Ar- 
rived at  Tivoli,  I  waited  in  the  Caffe  d'ltalia 
hoping  for  better  weather.  An  old  grand  piano- 
forte, the  veriest  rattletrap  stood  in  the  eating 
salle;  but  upon  its  keys  had  rested  many  times 
the  magic-breeding  fingers  of  Liszt.  Often,  with 
a  band  of  students  or  with  guests  he  would  walk 
down  from  the  villa  and  while  waiting  for  their 

340 


IN  THE  FOOTSTEPS  OF  LISZT 

carriages  he  would  jestingly  sweep  the  keyboard. 
At  the  Villa  d'Este  itself  the  cypresses,  cascades, 
terraces,  and  mysterious  avenues  of  green  were 
enveloped  in  a  hopeless  fog.  It  was  the  mistiest 
spot  I  ever  visited.  Heaven  and  earth,  seemingly, 
met  in  fluid  embrace  to  give  me  a  watery  wel- 
come. Where  was  Liszt's  abode  is  a  Marianite 
convent.  I  was  not  permitted  to  visit  his  old 
room  which  is  now  the  superior's.  It  was  at  the 
top  of  the  old  building,  for  wherever  Liszt  lived 
he  enjoyed  a  vast  landscape.  I  could  discover 
but  one  person  who  remembered  the  Abbate;  the 
concierge.  And  his  memories  were  scanty.  I 
wandered  disconsolately  through  the  rain,  my 
mood  splenetic.  So  much  for  fame.  I  bitterly 
reflected  in  the  melancholy,  weedy,  moss-in- 
fested walks  of  the  garden. 

As  I  attempted  to  point  out  to  our  little  party 
the  particular  window  from  which  Liszt  saw  the 
miraculous  Italian  world,  I  stepped  on  a  slimy 
green  rock  and  stretched  my  length  in  the  humid 
mud.  There  was  a  deep,  a  respectful  silence  as 
I  was  helped  to  my  feet  —  the  gravity  of  the  sur- 
roundings, the  solemnity  of  our  recollections 
choked  all  levity;  though  I  saw  signs  of  im- 
pending apoplexy  on  several  faces.  To  relieve 
the  strain  I  sternly  bade  our  guide  retire  to  an 
adjacent  bosky  retreat  and  there  roar  to  his 
heart's  content.  He  did.  So  did  we  all.  The 
spell  broken  we  returned  to  the  "Sirene"  op- 
posite the  entrance  to  the  famous  Tivoli  water- 
falls and  there  with  Chianti  and  spaghetti  tried 

341 


FRANZ  LISZT 

to  forget  the  morning's  disappointments.  But 
even  there  sadness  was  invoked  by  the  sight  of  a 
plaster  bust  of  Liszt  lying  forlorn  in  the  wet  grass. 
The  head  waiter  tried  to  sell  it  for  twenty  liri; 
but  it  was  too  big  to  carry;  besides  its  nose  was 
missing.  He  said  that  the  original  was  some- 
where in  Tivoli. 

Sgambati  in  Rome  keeps  green  the  memory 
of  the  master  in  his  annual  recitals;  but  of  the 
churchly  compositions  nc  one  I  encountered  had 
ever  heard.  At  Santa  Francesca  Romana,  ad- 
joining the  Forum,  Liszt  once  took  up  his 
abode;  there  I  saw  in  the  cloister  an  aged 
grand  pianoforte  upon  which  he  had  played 
in  a  concert  given  at  the  Church  of  Santa  Maria 
Maggiore  many  years  ago.  About  an  hour 
from  Rome  is  the  Oratory  of  the  Madonna  del 
Rosario  on  Monte  Mario.  There  Liszt  lived  and 
composed  in  1863.  But  his  sacred  music  is 
never  sung  in  any  of  the  churches;  the  noble 
Graner  Mass  is  still  unheard  in  Rome.  Even 
the  Holy  Father  refers  to  the  dead  Hungarian 
genius  as,  "il  compositore  Tedesco!"  It  was 
different  in  the  days  of  Pius  IX,  when  Liszt's 
music  was  favoured  at  the  Vatican.  Is  it  not  re- 
lated that  Pio  Nono  bestowed  upon  the  great  pi- 
anist the  honour  of  hearing  his  confession  at  the 
time  he  became  an  abbe  ?  And  did  he  not  after 
four  or  five  hours  of  worldly  reminiscences,  cry 
out  despairingly  to  his  celebrated  penitent: 

"Basta,  Caro  Liszt!  Your  memory  is  marvel- 
lous.    Now  go  play  the  remainder  of  your  sins 

342 


IN  THE  FOOTSTEPS   OF  LISZT 

upon  the  pianoforte."  They  say  that  Liszt's 
playing  on  that  occasion  was  simply  enchanting 
—  and  he  did  not  cease  until  far  into  the  night. 

Liszt's  various  stopping-places  in  and  arourxd 
Rome  were:  Vicolo  de  Greci  (No.  43),  Hotei 
Alibert,  Vicolo  Alibert,  opposite  Via  del  Bab- 
uino;  Villa  d'Este  with  Cardinal  Hohenlohe, 
also  at  the  Vatican;  in  1866  at  Monte  Mario, 
Kloster  Madonna  del  Rosario,  Kloster  Santa 
Francesca  Romana,  the  Princess  Sayn- Wittgen- 
stein first  resided  in  the  Via  del  Babuino,  later 
(1881)  at  the  Hotel  Malaro.  Monsignor  Ken- 
nedy of  the  American  College  shows  the  grand 
piano  upon  which  Liszt  once  played  there. 

Perhaps  Rome,  at  a  superficial  glance,  still 
affects  the  American  as  it  did  Taine  a  half  cen- 
tury ago,  as  a  provincial  city,  sprawled  to  un- 
necessary lengths  over  its  seven  hills,  and,  de- 
spite the  smartness  of  its  new  quarters,  far  from 
suggesting  a  Weltstadt,  as  does,  for  example, 
bustling,  shining  Berlin  or  mundane  Paris.  But 
not  for  her  superb  and  imperial  indifference  are 
the  seductive  spells  of  operatic  Venice  or  the  ro- 
mantic glamour  of  Florence.  She  can  proudly 
say  "La  ville  c'est  moi!"  She  is  not  a  city,  but 
the  city  of  cities,  and  it  needs  but  twenty-four 
hours'  submergence  in  her  atmosphere  to  make 
one  a  slave  at  her  eternal  chariot  wheels.  The 
New  York  cockney,  devoted  to  his  cult  of  the 
modern  —  hotels,  baths,  cafes  and  luxurious  the- 
atres —  soon  wearies  of  Rome.  He  prefers  Paris 
or  Naples.     Hasn't  some  one  said,  "See  Naples 

343 


FRANZ  LISZT 

and  die  —  of  its  smells?"  As  an  inexperienced 
traveller  I  know  of  no  city  on  the  globe  where 
you  formulate  an  expression  of  like  or  dislike  so 
quickly.  You  are  Rome's  foe  or  friend  within 
five  minutes  after  you  leave  its  dingy  railway 
station.  And  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  add  that 
its  newer  quarters,  pretentious,  cold,  hard  and 
showy,  are  quite  negligible.  One  does  not  go  to 
Rome  to  seek  the  glazed  comforts  of  Brooklyn. 

The  usual  manner  of  approaching  the  Holy 
Father  is  to  go  around  to  the  American  Embassy 
and  harry  the  good-tempered  secretary  into  a 
promise  of  an  invitation  card,  that  is,  if  you  are 
not  acquainted  in  clerical  circles.  I  was  not  long 
in  Rome  before  I  discovered  that  both  Mgr.  Ken- 
nedy and  Mgr.  Merry  del  Val  were  at  Frascati 
enjoying  a  hard-earned  vacation.  So  I  dismissed 
the  ghost  of  the  idea  and  pursued  my  pagan  wor- 
ship at  the  Museo  Vaticano.  Then  the  heavy 
hoofs  of  three  hundred  pilgrims  invaded  the  peace 
of  the  quiet  Hotel  Fischer  up  in  the  Via  Sallus- 
tiana.  They  had  come  from  Cologne  and  the 
vicinity  of  the  Upper  Rhine,  bearing  Peter's 
pence,  wearing  queer  clothes  and  good-natured 
smiles.  They  tramped  the  streets  and  churches 
of  Rome,  did  these  commonplace,  pious  folk. 
They  burrowed  in  the  Catacombs  and  ate  their 
meals,  men  and  women  alike,  with  such  a  hearty 
gnashing  of  teeth,  such  a  rude  appetite,  that  one 
envied  their  vitality,  their  faith,  their  wholesale 
air  of  having  accomplished  the  conquest  of  Rome. 

Their  schedule,  evidently  prepared  with  great 

344 


IN  THE  FOOTSTEPS   OF  LISZT 

forethought  and  one  that  went  absolutely  to 
pieces  when  put  to  the  test  of  practical  operation, 
was  wrangled  over  at  each  meal,  where  the  Teu- 
tonic clans  foregathered  in  full  force.  The  third 
day  I  heard  of  a  projected  audience  at  the  Vati- 
can. These  people  had  come  to  Rome  to  see  the 
Pope.  Big-boned  and  giantlike  Monsignor  Pick 
visited  the  hotel  daily,  and  once  after  I  saw  him 
in  conference  with  Signor  Fischer  I  asked  him 
if  it  were  possible 

"  Of  course,"  responded  the  wily  Fischer,  "any- 
thing is  possible  in  Rome."  Wear  evening  dress  ? 
Nonsense !  That  was  in  the  more  exacting  days 
of  Leo  XIII.  The  present  Pope  is  a  democrat. 
He  hates  vain  show.  Perhaps  he  has  absorbed 
some  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  antipathy  to  seeing 
evening  dress  on  a  male  during  daylight.  But 
the  ladies  wear  veils.  All  the  morning  of  October 
5  the  hotel  was  full  of  eager  Italians  selling  veils 
to  the  German  ladies. 

Carriages  blocked  the  streets  and  almost 
stretched  four  square  around  the  Palazzo  Mar- 
gherita.  There  was  noise.  There  were  explosive 
sounds  when  bargains  were  driven.  Then,  after 
the  vendors  of  saints'  pictures,  crosses,  rosary 
beads  —  chiefly  gentlemen  of  Oriental  persua- 
sion, comical  as  it  may  seem  —  we  drove  off  in 
high  feather  nearly  four  hundred  strong.  I  had 
secured  from  Monsignor  Pick  through  the  oflSces 
of  my  amiable  host  a  parti-hued  badge  with  a 
cross  and  the  motto,  "Coeln  —  Rom.,  1905," 
which,  interpreted,  meant  "Cologne — Rome."    I 

345 


FRANZ  LISZT 

felt  like  singing  "Nach  Rom,"  after  the  fashion 
of  the  Wagnerians  in  act  II  of  Tannhauser,  but 
contented  myself  with  abusing  my  coachman  for 
his  slow  driving.  It  was  all  as  exciting  as  a  first 
night  at  the  opera. 

The  rendezvous  was  the  Campo  Santo  dei 
Tedeschi,  which,  with  its  adjoining  church  of 
Santa  Maria  della  Pieta,  was  donated  to  the  Ger- 
mans by  Pius  VI  as  a  burying-ground.  There 
I  met  my  companions  of  the  dining-room,  and 
after  a  stem-looking  German  priest  with  the  bear- 
ing of  an  officer  interrogated  me  I  was  permitted 
to  join  the  pilgrims.  What  at  first  had  been  a 
thing  of  no  value  was  now  become  a  matter  of 
life  and  death. 

After  standing  above  the  dust  and  buried  bones 
of  illustrious  and  forgotten  Germans  we  went  into 
the  church  and  were  cooled  by  an  address  in 
German  from  a  worthy  cleric  whose  name  I 
cannot  recall.  I  remember  that  he  told  us  that 
we  were  to  meet  the  Vicar  of  Christ,  a  man  like 
ourselves.  He  emphasised  strangely,  so  it  ap- 
peared to  me,  the  humanity  of  the  great  prelate 
before  whom  we  were  bidden  that  gloomy  au- 
tumnal afternoon.  And  then,  after  intoning  a 
Te  Deum,  we  filed  out  in  pairs,  first  the  women, 
then  the  men,  along  the  naked  stones  until  we 
reached  the  end  of  the  Via  delle  Fundamenta. 
The  pilgrims  wore  their  everyday  clothes.  One 
even  saw  the  short  cloak  and  the  green  jagerhut. 
We  left  our  umbrellas  at  a  garderobe;  its  business 
that  day  was  a  thriving  one.     We  mounted  in- 

346 


IN  THE  FOOTSTEPS   OF  LISZT 

numerable  staircases.  We  entered  the  Sala  Re- 
gia,  our  destination  —  I  had  hoped  for  the  more 
noble  and  spacious  Sala  Ducale. 

Three  o'clock  was  the  hour  set  for  the  audi- 
ence; but  His  Holiness  was  closeted  with  a 
French  ecclesiastical  eminence  and  there  was  a 
delay  of  nearly  an  hour.  We  spent  it  in  staring 
at  the  sacred  and  profane  frescoes  of  Daniele  da 
Vol  terra,  Vasari,  Salviati  and  Zucchari  staring  at 
each  other.  The  women,  despite  their  Italian 
veils,  looked  hopelessly  Teutonic,  the  men  clumsy 
and  ill  at  ease.  There  were  uncouth  and  gut- 
tural noises.  Conversation  proceeded  amain. 
Some  boasted  of  being  heavily  laden  with  rosaries 
and  crucifixes,  for  all  desired  the  blessing  of  the 
Holy  Father.  One  man,  a  young  German- 
American  priest  from  the  Middle  West,  almost 
staggered  beneath  a  load  of  pious  emblems.  The 
guilty  feelings  which  had  assailed  me  as  I  passed 
the  watchful  gaze  of  the  Swiss  Guards  began  to 
wear  off.  The  Sala  Regia  bore  an  unfamiliar 
aspect,  though  I  had  been  haunting  it  and  the 
adjacent  Sistine  Chapel  daily  for  the  previous 
month.  An  aura,  coming  I  knew  not  whence, 
surrounded  us.  The  awkward  pilgrims,  with 
their  daily  manners,  almost  faded  away,  and 
when  at  last  a  murmur  went  up,  "The  Holy 
Father!  the  Holy  Father!  He  approaches!"  a 
vast  sigh  of  relief  was  exhaled.  The  tension  had 
become  unpleasant. 

We  were  ranged  on  either  side,  the  women  to 
the  right,  the  men  to  the  left  of  the  throne,  which 

347 


FRANZ  LISZT 

was  an  ordinary  looking  tribune.  It  must  be 
confessed  that  later  the  fair  sex  were  vigorously 
elbowed  to  the  rear.  In  America  the  women 
would  have  been  well  to  the  front,  but  the  dear 
old  Fatherland  indulges  in  no  such  new  fangled 
ideas  of  sex  equality.  So  the  polite  male  pil- 
grims by  superior  strength  usurped  all  the  good 
places.  A  tall,  handsome  man  in  evening 
clothes  —  solitary  in  this  respect,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  the  Pope's  body  suite  —  patrolled  the 
floor,  obsequiously  followed  by  the  Suiss  in  their 
hideous  garb  —  a  murrain  on  Michelangelo's 
taste  if  he  designed  such  hideous  uniforms!  I 
fancied  that  he  was  no  less  than  a  prince  of  the 
royal  blood,  so  masterly  was  his  bearing.  When 
I  discovered  that  he  was  the  Roman  correspon- 
dent of  a  well-known  North  German  gazette  my 
respect  for  the  newspaper  man  abroad  was  vastly 
increased.     The  power  of  the  press ! 

"His  Holiness  comes!"  was  announced,  and 
this  time  it  was  not  a  false  alarm.  From  a  gal- 
lery facing  the  Sistine  Chapel  entered  the  inev- 
itable Swiss  Guards;  followed  the  ofl&cers  of  the 
Papal  household,  grave  and  reverend  seigniors; 
a  knot  of  ecclesiastics,  all  wearing  purple;  Mon- 
signor  Pick,  the  Papal  prothonotary  and  a  man 
of  might  in  business  affairs;  then  a  few  strag- 
glers —  anonymous  persons,  stout,  bald,  ofl&cials 
—  and  finally  Pope  Pius  X. 

He  was  attired  in  pure  white,  even  to  the  sash 
that  compassed  his  plump  little  figure.  A  cross 
depended  from  his  neck.     He  immediately  and 

348 


IN  THE  FOOTSTEPS   OF  LISZT 

in  the  most  matter  of  fact  fashion  held  out  his 
hand  to  be  kissed.  I  noted  the  whiteness  of  the 
nervous  hand  tendered  me,  bearing  the  ring  of 
Peter,  a  large,  square  emerald  surrounded  by 
diamonds..  Though  seventy,  the  Pope  looks  ten 
years  younger.  He  is  slightly  under  medium 
height.  His  hair  is  white,  his  complexion  dark 
red,  veined,  and  not  very  healthy.  He  seems  to 
need  fresh  air  and  exercise;  the  great  gardens  of 
the  Vatican  are  no  compensation  for  this  man  of 
sorrows,  homesick  for  the  sultry  lagoons  and 
stretches  of  gleaming  waters  in  his  old  diocese 
of  Venice.  If  the  human  in  him  could  call  out 
it  would  voice  Venice,  not  the  Vatican.  The 
flesh  of  his  face  is  what  the  painters  call  "ecclesi- 
astical flesh,"  large  in  grain.  His  nose  broad, 
unaristocratic,  his  brows  strong  and  harmonious. 
His  eyes  may  be  brown,  but  they  seemed  black 
and  brilliant  and  piercing.  He  moved  with  silent 
alertness.  An  active,  well-preserved  man,  though 
he  achieved  the  Biblical  three-score  and  ten  in 
June,  1905.  I  noted,  too,  with  satisfaction,  the 
shapely  ears,  artistic  ears,  musical  ears,  their 
lobes  freely  detached.  A  certain  resemblance  to 
Pius  IX  there  is;  he  is  not  so  amiable  as  was 
that  good-tempered  Pope  who  was  nicknamed 
by  his  intimate  friend,  the  Abbe  Liszt,  Pia  Nina, 
because  of  his  musical  proclivities.  Altogether, 
I  found  another  than  the  Pope  I  had  expected. 
This,  then,  was  that  exile  —  an  exile,  yet  in  his 
native  land;  a  prisoner  in  sight  of  the  city  of 
which  he  is  the  spiritual  ruler;  a  prince  over  all 

349 


FRANZ  LISZT 

principalities  and  dominions,  yet  withal  a  feeble 
old  man,  whose  life  might  be  imperilled  if  he 
ventured  into  the  streets  of  Rome. 

The  Pope  had  now  finished  his  circle  of  pil- 
grims and  stood  at  the  other  end  of  the  Sala. 
With  him  stood  his  chamberlains  and  ecclesias- 
tics. Suddenly  a  voice  from  the  balcony,  which 
I  saw  for  the  first  time,  bade  us  come  nearer. 
I  was  thunder-struck.  This  was  back  to  the 
prose  of  life  with  a  vengeance.  We  obeyed  in- 
structions. A  narrow  aisle  was  made,  with  the 
Pope  in  the  middle  perspective.  Then  the  voice, 
which  I  discovered  by  this  time  issued  from  the 
mouth  of  a  bearded  person  behind  a  huge,  glit- 
tering camera,  cried  out  in  peremptory  and  true 
photographer  style: — 

"One,  two,  three!  Thank  your  Holiness." 
And  so  we  were  photographed.  In  the  Vati- 
can and  photographed !  Old  Rome  has  her  sur- 
prises for  the  patronising  visitors  from  the  New 
World.  It  was  too  business-like  for  me,  and  I 
would  have  gone  away,  but  I  couldn't,  as  the 
audience  had  only  begun.  The  Pope  went  to 
his  throne  and  received  the  heads  of  the  pilgrims. 
A  certain  presumptuous  American  told  him  that 
the  church  musical  revolution  was  not  much  ap- 
preciated in  America.  He  also  asked,  rash  per- 
son that  he  was,  why  an  example  was  not  set  at 
St.  Peter's  itself,  where  the  previous  Sunday  he 
had  heard,  and  to  his  horror,  a  florid  mass  by 
Milozzi,  as  florid  and  operatic  as  any  he  had  been 
forced  to  endure  in  New  York  before  the  new 

350 


IN  THE  FOOTSTEPS   OF  LISZT 

order  of  things.  A  discreet  poke  in  the  ribs  en- 
lightened him  to  the  fact  that  at  a  general  audi- 
ence such  questions  are  not  in  good  taste. 

The  Pope  spoke  a  few  words  in  a  ringing  bary- 
tone voice.  He  said  that  he  loved  Germany, 
loved  its  Emperor;  that  every  morning  his  second 
prayer  was  for  Germany  —  his  first,  was  it  for 
the  hundredth  wandering  sheep  of  the  flock, 
France  ?  That  he  did  not  explain.  He  blessed 
us,  and  his  singing  voice  proved  singularly  rich, 
resonant  and  pure  in  intonation  for  an  old  man. 
Decidedly  Pius  X  is  musical;  he  plays  the  piano- 
forte it  is  said,  with  taste.  The  pilgrims  thun- 
dered the  Te  Deum  a  second  time,  with  such 
pious  fervour  that  the  venerable  walls  of  the 
Sala  Regia  shook  with  their  lung  vibrations. 
Then  the  Papal  suite  followed  the  sacred  figure 
out  of  the  chamber  and  the  buzzing  began.  The 
women  wanted  to  know  —  and  indignant  were 
their  inflections  —  why  a  certain  lady  attired  in 
scarlet,  hat  and  all,  was  permitted  within  the 
sacred  precincts.  The  men  hurried,  jostling 
each  other,  for  their  precious  umbrellas.  The 
umbrella  in  Germany  is  the  symbol  of  the  medi- 
aeval sword.  We  broke  ranks  and  tumbled  into 
the  now  sunny  daylight,  many  going  on  the  wings 
of  thirst  to  the  Piazza  Santi  Apostoli,  which,  not- 
withstanding its  venerable  name,  has  amber  med- 
icine for  parched  German  gullets. 

Pius  X  is  a  democratic  man.  He  may  be  seen 
by  the  faithful  at  any  time.  He  has  organised 
a  number  of  athletic  clubs  for  young  Romans, 

351 


FRANZ  LISZT 

taking  a  keen  interest  in  their  doings.  He  is  an 
impulsive  man  and  has  many  enemies  in  his  own 
household.  He  has  expressed  his  intention  of 
ridding  Rome  of  its  superfluous  monks,  those  un- 
attached ones  who  make  life  a  burden  by  their 
importunings  and  beggaries  in  Rome. 

His  personal  energy  was  expressed  while  I  was 
in  Rome  by  his  very  spirited  rebuke  to  some  mem- 
bers of  the  athletic  clubs  at  an  audience  in  the 
Vatican.  There  was  some  disorder  while  the 
Pontiff  spoke.  He  fixed  a  noisy  group  with  an 
angry  glance:  —  "Those  who  do  not  wish  to  hear 
me  —  well,  there  is  the  open  door!" 

Another  incident,  and  one  I  neglected  to  re- 
late in  its  proper  place :  —  As  Pius  proceeded 
along  the  line  of  kneeling  figures  during  the  Ger- 
man audience  he  encountered  a  little,  jolly-look- 
ing priest,  evidently  known  to  him.  A  smile, 
benign,  witty,  delicately  humourous,  appeared 
on  his  lips.  For  a  moment  he  seemed  more  Celt 
than  Latin.  There  was  no  hint  of  the  sardonic 
smile  which  is  said  to  have  crossed  the  faces  of 
Roman  augurs.  It  was  merely  a  friendly  recog- 
nition tempered  by  humility,  as  if  he  meant  to 
ask:  —  "Why  do  you  need  my  blessing,  friend ?" 
And  it  was  the  most  human  smile  that  I  would 
imagine  worn  by  a  Pope.  It  told  me  more  of  his 
character  than  even  did  his  meek  and  resigned 
pose  when  the  official  photographer  of  the  Vati- 
can called  out  his  sonorous  "Una,  due,  tre!" 


352 


VIII 

LISZT  PUPILS  AND  LISZTIANA 

Here  is  a  list  of  the  pupils  who  studied  with 
Liszt.  There  are  doubtless  a  thousand  more 
who  claim  to  have  been  under  his  tutelage  but 
as  he  is  dead  he  can't  call  them  liars.  All  who 
played  in  Weimar  were  not  genuine  pupils.  This 
collection  of  names  has  been  gleaned  from  vari- 
ous sources.  It  is  by  no  means  infallible.  Many 
of  them  are  dead.  No  attempt  is  made  to  de- 
note their  nationalities,  only  sex  and  alphabetical 
order  is  employed.     Place  aux  dames. 

Vilma  Barga  Abranyi,  Anderwood,  Baronne 
Angwez,  Julia  Banholzer,  Bartlett,  Stefanie 
Busch,  AHce  Bechtel,  Berger,  Robertine  Ber- 
sen-Gothenberg,  Ida  Bloch,  Charlotte  Blume- 
Ahrens,  Anna  Bock,  Bodinghausen,  Valerie 
Boissier-Gasparin,  Marianne  Brandt,  Antonie 
Bregenzer,  Marie  Breidenstein,  Elisabeth  Bren- 
del-Trautmann,  Ingeborg  Bronsart-Stark,  Em- 
ma Briickmann,  Burmester,  Louisa  Cognetti, 
Descy,  Wilhelmine  Doring,  Victoria  Brewing, 
Pauline  Endry,  Pauline  Fichtner  Erdmanns- 
dorfer,  Hermine  Esinger,  Anna  Mehlig-Falk, 
Amy  Fay,  Anna  Fiebinger,  Fischer,  Margarethe 
Fokke,  Stefanie    Forster,  Hermine    Frank,  H. 

353 


FRANZ  LISZT 

von  Friedlander,  Vilma  von  Friedenlieb,  Steph- 
anie von  Fryderyey,  Hirschfeld-Gartner,  Anna 
Gall,  Cecilia  Gaul,  Kathi  Gaul,  Ida  Seelmuyden, 
Geyser,  Gilbreth,  Goodwin,  Gower,  Amalie 
Greipel-Golz,  Margit  Groschmied,  Emma  Gross- 
furth,  Ilona  Grunn,  Emma  Guttmann  von 
Hadeln,  Adele  Hastings,  Piroska  Hary,  Howard, 
Heidenreich,  Nadine  von  Helbig  (nee  Princesse 
Schakovskoy),  Gertrud  Herzer,  Hippins,  Hodoly, 
Holtze,  Aline  Hundt,  Marie  Trautmann  Jaell, 
Olga  Janina  (Marquise  Cezano),  Jeapp,  Jeppe, 
Julia  Jerusalem,  Clothilde  Jeschke,  Helena 
Kahler,  Anna  Kastner,  Clemence  Kautz-Kreut- 
zer,  Kettwitz,  Johanna  Klinkerfuss-Schulz,  Em- 
ma Koch,  Roza  Koderle,  Manda  Von  Kontsky, 
Kovnatzka,  Ernestine  Kramer,  Klara  Krause, 
Julia  Riv^  King,  Louise  Krausz,  Josefine 
Krautwald,  Isabella  Kulissay,  Natalie  Kupisch, 
Marie  La  Mara  (Lipsius),  Adele  Laprunarede 
(Duchesse  de  Fleury),  Vicomtesse  de  La  Roche- 
foucauld, Julie  Laurier,  Leu  Ouscher,  Elsa 
Levinson,  Ottilie  Lichterfeld,  Hedwig  von  Liszt, 
Hermine  Liiders,  Ella  Mdday,  Sarah  Magnus- 
Heinze,  Marie  von  Majewska-Sokal,  Martini, 
Sofie  Menter,  Emilie  Merian  Genast,  Emma 
Mettler,  Olga  de  Meyendorff  (nee  Princesse 
Gortschakoff),  Miekleser,  Von  Milde-Agthe, 
Henrietta  Mildner,  Comtesse  de  Miramont,  Ella 
Modritzky,  Marie  Mosner,  De  Montgolfier,  Eu- 
genie Miiller-Katalin,  Herminie  de  Musset,  Ida 
Nagy,  Gizella  Neumann,  Iren  Nobel,  Adele  Aus 
der   Ohe,   Sophie    Olsen,   Paramanoff,    Gizella 

354 


LISZT  PUPILS  AND  LISZTIANA 

Paszthony-Voigt  de  Leitersberg,  Dory  Petersen, 
Sophie  Pflughaupt-Stehepin,  Jessie  Pinney-Bald- 
win,  Marie  Pleyel-Mock,  Pohl-Eyth,  Toni  Raab, 
Lina  Ramann,  Katchen  von  Ranuschewitsch, 
Laura  Rappoldi-Kahrer,  Duchesse  de  Rauzan, 
Ilonka  von  Ravacz,  Gertrud  Remmert,  Martha 
Remmert,  Auguste  Rennenbaum,  Klara  Riess, 
Anna  Rigo,  Anna  Rilke,  Rosenstock,  M.  von 
Sabinin,  Comtesse  Carolyne  Saint-Criq  d'Artig- 
nan  (Liszt's  first  love),  Grafin  Sauerma,  Louise 
Scharnack,  Lina  Scheuer,  Lina  Schmalhausen, 
Marie  Schnobel,  Agnes  Scholer,  Adelheid  von 
Schorn,  Anna  Schuck,  Elly  Schulze,  Irma 
Schwarz,  Arma  Senkrah  (Harkness),  Caroline 
Montigny-Remaury  (Serres),  Siegenfeld,  Paula 
Sockeland,  Ella  Solomonson,  Sothman,  Elsa 
Sonntag,  Spater,  Anna  Spiering,  H.  Stark,  Anna 
Stahr,  Helene  Stahr,  Margarethe  Stern-Herr, 
Neally  Stevens,  Von  Stvicowich,  Hilda  Tegern- 
strom.  Vera  von  Timanoff,  Iwanka  Valeska, 
Vial,  Pauline  Viardot- Garcia,  Hortense  Voigt, 
Pauline  von  Voros,  Ida  Volkmann,  Josephine 
Ware,  Rosa  Wappenhaus,  Ella  Wassemer,  Olga 
Wein-Vaszilievitz,  Weishemer,  Margarethe  Wild, 
Etelka  Willheim-Illoffsky,  Winslow,  Janka  Wohl, 
Johanna  Wenzel-Zarembska. 

Among  the  men  were:  Cornel  Abranyi,  Leo 
d'Ageni,  Eugen  d'Albert,  Isaac  Albeniz,  C.  B. 
Alkan,  Nikolaus  Almasy,  F.  Altschul,  Conrad 
Ansorge,  Emil  Bach,  Walter  Bache,  Carl  Baer- 
mann,  Albert  Morris  Bagby,  Josef  Bahnert,  Jo- 
hann  Butka,  Antonio  Bazzini,  J.  von  Beliczay, 

355 


FRANZ  LISZT 

Franz  Bendel,  Rudolf  Bensey,  Theodore  Ritter, 
Wilhelm  Berger,  Arthur  Bird,  Adolf  Blassmann 
Bernhard  Boekelmann,  Alexander  Borodin, 
Louis  Brassin,  Frederick  Boscovitz,  Franz  Bren- 
del,  Emil  Brodhag,  Hans  von  Bronsart,  Hans 
von  Billow,  Buonamici,  Burgmein  (Ricordi), 
Richard  Burmeister,  Louis  Coenen,  Herman 
Cohen  ("Puzzi"),  Chop,  Peter  Cornelius,  Bern- 
hard  Cossmann,  Leopold  Damrosch,  William 
Dayas,  Ludwig  Dingeldey,  D'  Ma  Sudda-Bey, 
Felix  Draeseke,  Von  Dunkirky,  Paul  Eckhoff, 
Theodore  Eisenhauer,  Imre  Elbert,  Max  Erds- 
mannsdorfer,  Henri  Falcke,  August  Fischer,  C. 
Fischer,  L.  A.  Fischer,  Sandor  Forray,  Freymond, 
Arthur  Friedheim,  W.  Fritze,  Ferencz  Gaal, 
Paul  Geisler,  Josef  Gierl,  Henri  von  Gobbi,  Au- 
gust Gollerich,  Karl  Gopfurt,  Edward  Gotze, 
Karl  Gotze,  Adalbert  von  Goldschmidt,  Bela  Gosz- 
tonyi,  A.  W.  Gottschlag,  L.  Griinberger,  Gug- 
lielmi,  Luigi  Gulli,  Guricks,  Arthur  Hahn,  Lud- 
wig Hartmann,  Rudolf  Hackert,  Harry  Hatch, 
J.  Hatton,  Hermann,  Carl  Hermann,  Josef 
Huber,  Augustus  Hyllested,  S.  Jadassohn,  Alfred 
Jaell,  Josef  Joachim,  Rafael  Joseffy,  Ivanow- 
Ippolitoff,  Aladar  Jukasz,  Louis  Jungmann, 
Emerich  Kastner,  Keler,  Berthold  Kellermann, 
Baron  Von  Keudell,  Wilhelm  Kienzl,  Edwin 
Klahre,  Karl  Klindworth,  Julius  Kniese,  Louis 
Kohler,  Martin  Krause,  Gustav  Krausz,  Bela 
Kristinkovics,  Franz  Kroll,  Karl  Von  Lachmund, 
Alexander  Lambert,  Frederick  Lamond,  Sieg- 
fried  Langaard,   Eduard    Lassen,   W.   Waugh 

35^ 


LISZT   PUPILS  AND   LISZTIANA 

Lauder,  Georg  Leitert,  Graf  de  Leutze,  Wilhelm 
Von  Lenz,  Otto  Lessmann,^Emil  Liebling,  Georg 
Liebling,  Saul  Liebling,  Karlo  Lippi,  Louis 
Lonen,  Joseph  Lomba,  Heinrich  Lutter,  Louis 
Mass,  Gyula  Major,  Hugo  Mansfeldt,  L.  Marek, 
William  Mason,  Edward  MacDowell,  Richard 
Metzdorff,  Baron  Meyendorff,  Max  Meyer, 
Meyer- Olbersleben,  E.  Von  Michalowich,  Mihl- 
berg,  F.  Von  Milde,  Michael  Moszonyi,  Moriz 
Moszkowski,  J,  Vianna  da  Motta,  Felix  Mottl, 
Franz  Miiller,  Miiller-Hartung,  Johann  Miiller, 
Paul  Muller,  Nikol  Nelisofif,  Otto  Neitzel,  Arthur 
Nikisch,  Ludwig  Nohl,  John  Orth,  F.  Pezzini, 
Robert  Pflughaupt,  Max  Pinner,  William  Piutti, 
Richard  Pohl,  Karl  Pohlig,  Pollack,  Heinrich 
Porges,  Wilhem  Posse,  Silas  G.  Pratt,  Dionys 
Priickner,  Graf  Piickler,  Joachim  RaflF,  S.  Ratz- 
enberger,  Karoly  Rausch,  Alfred  Reisenauer, 
Edward  Remenyi,  Alfonso  Rendano,  Julius 
Reulke,  Edward  Reuss,  Hermann  Richter, 
Julius  Richter,  Karl  Riedel,  F.  W.  Riesberg, 
Rimsky-Korsakoff,  Karl  Ritter,  Hermann  Ritter, 
Moriz  Rosenthal,  Bertrand  Roth,  Louis  Roth- 
feld,  Joseph  Rubinstein,  Nikolaus  Rubinstein, 
Camille  Saint-Saens,  Max  van  de  Sandt,  Emil 
Sauer,  Xaver  Scharwenka,  Hermann  Scholtz, 
Bruno  Schrader,  F.  Schreiber,  Karl  Schroeder, 
Max  Schuler,  H.  Schwarz,  Max  Seifriz,  Alex- 
ander Seroff,  Franz  Servais,  Giovanni  Sgambati, 
William  H.  Sherwood,  Rudolf  Sieber,  Alexander 
Siloti,  Edmund  Singer,  Otto  Singer,  Antol  Sipos, 
Friederich  Smetana,  Goswin  Sockeland,  Wilhelm 

357 


FRANZ  LISZT 

Speidel,  F.  Spiro,  F.  Stade,  L.  Stark,  Ludwig 
Stasny,  Adolph  Stange,  Bernhard  Stavenhagen, 
Eduard  Stein,  August  Stradal,  Frank  Van  der 
Stucken,  Arpad  Szendy,  Ladislas  Tarnowski, 
Karl  Tausig,  E.  Telbicz,  Otto  Tiersch,  Anton 
Urspruch,  Baron  Vegh,  Rudolf  Viole,  Vital,  Jean 
Voigt,  Voss,  Henry  Waller,  Felix  Weingartner, 
Weissheimer,  Westphalen,  Joseph  Wieniawsky, 
Alexander  Winterberger,  Theador  de  Witt,  Peter 
Wolf,  Jules  Zarembsky,  Van  Zeyl,  Geza  Zichy 
(famous  one-armed  Hungarian  pianist),  Her- 
mann Zopff,  Johannes  Zschocher.  Stephen 
Thoman,  Louis  Messemaekers,  Robert  Freund. 
And  how  many  more? 

All  the  names  above  mentioned  were  not  pian- 
ists. Some  were  composers,  later  celebrated, 
conductors,  violinists  —  Joachim  and  Remenyi, 
and  Van  Der  Stucken,  for  example  —  harpists, 
even  musical  critics  who  went  to  Liszt  for  musical 
advice,  advice  that  he  gave  with  a  royal  prodigal- 
ity. He  never  received  money  for  his  lessons. 
"Am  I  a  piano  teacher?"  he  would  thunder  if 
a  pupil  came  to  him  with  faulty  technic. 

What  became  of  Part  Third  of  the  Liszt  Piano 
Method?  It  was  spirited  away  and  has  never 
been  heard  of  since.  In  his  Franz  Liszt  in 
Weimar,  the  late  A.  W.  Gottschalg  discusses  the 
mystery.  A  pupil,  a  woman,  is  said  to  have  been 
the  delinquent.  The  Method,  as  far  as  it  goes 
is  not  a  work  of  supreme  importance.  Liszt 
was  not  a  pedagogue,  and  abhorred  technical 
drudgery. 

358 


LISZT  PUPILS  AND   LISZTIANA 

As  to  the  legend  of  his  numerous  children,  we 
can  only  repeat  Mark  Twain's  witticism  con- 
cerning a  false  report  of  his  death  —  the  report 
has  been  much  exaggerated.  At  one  time  or  an- 
other Alexander  Winterberger,  a  pupil  (since  dead) , 
the  late  Anton  Seidl,  Servais,  Arthur  Friedheim, 
and  many  others  have  been  called  "sons  of 
Liszt."  And  I  have  heard  of  several  ladies  who 
—  possibly  thinking  it  might  improve  their  tech- 
nic  —  made  the  claim  of  paternity.  At  one  time 
in  Weimar,  Friedheim  smilingly  assured  me, 
there  was  a  craze  to  be  suspected  an  offspring 
of  the  Grand  Old  Man  —  who  like  Wotan  had 
his  Valkyrie  brood.  When  Eugen  d' Albert  first 
played  for  Liszt  he  was  saluted  by  him  as  the 
"Second  Tausig,"  That  settled  his  paternity. 
Immediately  it  was  hinted  that  he  greatly  re- 
sembled Karl  Tausig,  and  although  his  real 
father  was  a  French  dance  composer  —  do  you 
remember  the  Peri  Valse? — everyone  stuck  to 
the  Tausig  legend.  I  wonder  what  the  mothers 
of  these  young  Lisztians  thought  of  their  sons' 
tact  and  delicacy  ? 

Liszt  denied  that  Thalberg  was  the  natural 
son  of  Prince  Dietrichstein  of  Vienna,  as  was 
commonly  believed.  To  Gollerich  he  said  that 
his  early  rival  was  the  son  of  an  Englishman. 
Richard  Burmeister  told  me  when  Servais  vis- 
ited Weimar  the  Lisztian  circle  was  agitated 
because  of  the  remarkable  resemblance  the  Bel- 
gian bore  to  the  venerable  Abbe.  At  the  whist- 
table  —  the  game  was  a  favourite  one  with  the 

359 


FRANZ  LISZT 

Master  —  some  tactless  person  bluntly  put  the 
question  to  Liszt  as  to  the  supposed  relationship. 
He  fell  into  a  rage  and  growlingly  answered: 
"Ich  kenne  seine  Mutter  nur  durch  Correspon- 
denz,  und  so  was  kann  man  nicht  durch  Cor- 
respondenz  abmachen."  Then  the  game  was  re- 
sumed. 

Liszt  admired  the  brilliant  talents  of  the  young 
Nietzsche,  but  he  distrusted  his  future.  Nietz- 
sche disliked  the  pianist  and  said  of  him  in  one 
of  his  aphorisms:  "Liszt  the  first  representative 
of  all  musicians,  but  no  musician.  He  was  the 
prince,  not  the  statesman.  The  conglomerate  of 
a  hundred  musicians'  souls,  but  not  enough  of  a 
personality  to  cast  his  own  shadow  upon  them." 
In  his  Roving  Expeditions  of  an  Inopportune 
Philosopher,  Nietzsche  even  condescends  to  a 
pun  on  Liszt  as  a  piano  teacher:  "Liszt,  or  the 
school  of  running  —  after  women"  (Schule  der 
Gelaufigkeit). 

TAUSIG 

Over  a  quarter  of  a  century  has  passed  since 
the  death  of  Karl  Tausig,  a  time  long  enough 
to  dim  the  glory  of  the  mere  virtuoso.  Many  are 
still  living  who  have  heard  him  play,  and  can  re- 
call the  deep  impressions  which  his  performances 
made  on  his  hearers.  Whoever  not  only  knew 
Karl  Tausig  at  the  piano,  but  had  studied  his 
genuinely  artistic  nature,  still  retains  a  living 
image  of  him.  He  stands  before  us  in  all  his 
360 


LISZT  PUPILS  AND  LISZTIANA 

youth,  for  he  died  early,  before  he  had  reached 
the  middle  point  of  life;  he  counted  thirty  years 
at  the  time  of  his  death,  when  his  great  heart,  in- 
spired with  a  love  for  all  beauty,  ceased  to  beat; 
when  those  hands,  Tes  mains  de  bronze  et  des 
diamants,  as  Liszt  named  them  in  a  letter  to  his 
pupil  and  friend,  grew  stiff  in  death. 

It  was  through  many  wanderings  and  perplex- 
ities that  Karl  Tausig  rose  to  the  height  which  he 
reached  in  the  last  years  of  his  life.  A  friendless 
childhood  was  followed  by  a  period  of  Sturm  und 
Drang,  till  the  dross  had  been  purged  away  and 
the  pure  gold  of  his  being  displayed.  The  es- 
sence of  his  playing  was  warm  objectivity;  he 
let  every  masterpiece  come  before  us  in  its  own 
individuality;  the  most  perfect  virtuosity,  his 
incomparable  surmounting  of  all  technical  means 
of  expression,  was  to  him  only  the  means,  never 
the  end.  Paradoxical  as  it  may  appear,  there 
never  was,  before  or  since,  so  great  a  virtuoso  who 
was  less  a  virtuoso.  Hence  the  career  of  a  virtu- 
oso did  not  satisfy  him;  he  strove  for  higher  ends, 
and  apart  from  his  ceaseless  culture  of  the  intel- 
lect, his  profound  studies  in  all  fields  of  science 
and  the  devotion  which  he  gave  to  philosophy, 
mathematics,  and  the  natural  sciences,  what  he 
achieved  in  the  field  of  music  possesses  a  special 
interest,  as  he  regarded  it  as  merely  a  preparation 
for  comprehensive  creative  activity.  Some  of  these 
compositions  are  still  found  in  the  programmes 
of  all  celebrated  pianists,  while  the  arrangements 
that  he  made  for  pedagogic  purposes  occupy  a 
361 


FRANZ  LISZT 

prominent  place  in  the  courses  of  all    conser- 
vatories. 

Karl  Tausig  came  to  Berlin  in  the  beginning 
of  the  sixties.  Alois  Tausig,  his  father,  a  dis- 
tinguished piano  teacher  at  Warsaw,  who  had  di- 
rected the  early  education  of  the  son,  whom  he 
survived  by  more  than  a  decade,  had  already 
presented  him  to  Liszt  at  Weimar.  Liszt  at  once 
took  the  liveliest  interest  in  the  astonishing  tal- 
ents of  the  boy  and  made  him  a  member  of  his 
household  at  Altenburg,  at  Weimar,  where  this 
prince  in  the  realm  of  art  kept  his  court  with 
the  Princess  Sayn- Wittgenstein,  surrounded  by 
a  train  of  young  artists,  to  which  Hans  von  Bil- 
low, Karl  Klindworth,  Peter  Cornelius  (to  name 
only  a  few)  belonged.  With  all  these  Karl  Tau- 
sig formed  intimate  friendships,  especially  with 
Cornelius,  who  was  nearest  to  him  in  age.  An 
active  correspondence  was  carried  on  between 
them,  even  when  their  paths  of  life  separated 
them.  Tausig  next  went  to  Wagner  at  Zurich, 
and  the  meeting  confirmed  him  in  his  enthusi- 
asm for  the  master's  creations  and  developed 
that  combativeness  for  the  works  and  artistic 
struggles  of  Wagner  which  resulted  in  the  ar- 
rangement of  orchestral  concerts  in  Vienna  ex- 
clusively for  Wagner's  compositions,  a  very  haz- 
ardous venture  at  that  period.  He  directed  them 
in  person,  and  gave  all  his  savings  and  all  his 
youthful  power  to  them  without  gaining  the  suc- 
cess that  was  hoped  for.  The  master  himself, 
when  he  came  to  Vienna  for  the  rehearsals  of  the 
362 


LISZT  PUPILS  AND  LISZTIANA 

first  performances  of  Tristan  und  Isolde,  had 
sad  experiences;  his  young  friend  stood  gallantly 
by  his  side,  but  the  performance  did  not  take 
place.  Vienna  was  then  a  sterile  soil  for  Wag- 
ner's works  and  designs.  Tausig  returned  in 
anger  to  Berlin,  where  he  quickly  became  an  im- 
portant figure  and  a  life-giving  centre  of  a  circle 
of  interesting  men.  He  founded  a  conservatory 
that  was  sought  by  pupils  from  all  over  the 
world,  and  where  teachers  like  Louis  Ehlert  and 
Adolf  Jensen  gave  instruction.  When  Richard 
Wagner  came  to  Berlin  in  1870  with  a  project  for 
erecting  a  theatre  of  his  own  for  the  performance 
of  the  Nibelungen  Ring  it  was  Tausig  who  took 
it  up  with  ardent  zeal,  to  which  the  master  bore 
honourable  testimony  in  his  account  of  the  per- 
formance. 

In  July,  1871,  Tausig  visited  Liszt  at  Wei- 
mar and  accompanied  him  to  Leipsic,  where 
Liszt's  grand  mass  was  performed  in  St.  Thomas' 
Church  by  the  Riedle  Society.  After  the  per- 
formance he  fell  sick.  A  cold,  it  was  said,  pros- 
trated him.  In  truth  he  had  the  seeds  of  death 
in  him,  which  Wagner,  in  his  inscription  for  the 
tomb  of  his  young  friend,  expressed  by  the  words, 
"Ripe  for  death!"  The  Countess  Krockow  and 
Frau  von  Moukanoff,  who  on  the  report  of  his 
being  attacked  by  typhus  hastened  to  discharge 
the  duties  of  a  Samaritan  by  his  sick-bed  in  the 
hospital,  did  all  that  careful  nursing  and  devoted 
love  could  do,  but  in  vain,  and  on  July  17  Karl 
Tausig  breathed  his  last. 

363 


FRANZ  LISZT 

His  remains  were  carried  from  Leipsic  to  Ber- 
lin, and  were  interred  in  the  new  cemetery  in  the 
Belle  Alliance  Strasse.  During  the  funeral  cere- 
mony a  great  storm  burst  forth,  and  the  roll 
of  the  thunder  mingled  with  the  strains  of  the 
Funeral  March  from  the  Eroica  which  the  Sym- 
phony Orchestra  performed  at  his  grave.  Friends 
erected  a  simple  memorial.  An  obelisk  of  rough- 
hewn  syenite  bears  his  portrait,  modelled  in  re- 
lief by  Gustav  Blaesar.  Unfortunately  wind  and 
weather  in  the  course  of  years  injured  the  marble 
of  the  relief,  so  that  its  destruction  at  an  early 
period  was  probable,  and  the  same  friends  sub- 
stituted a  bronze  casting  for  the  marble,  which 
on  the  twenty-fifth  anniversary  of  his  death  was 
adorned  with  flowers  by  loving  hands. 

Karl  Tausig  represents  the  very  opposite  pole 
in  "pianism"  to  Thalberg;  he  was  fire  and  flame 
incama'e,  he  united  all  the  digital  excellencies 
of  the  aristocratic  Thalberg,  including  his  su- 
preme and  classic  calm  to  a  temperament  that, 
like  a  comet,  traversed  artistic  Europe  and  fired 
it  with  enthusiastic  ideals.  If  Karl  Tausig  had 
only  possessed  the  creative  gift  in  any  proportion 
to  his  genius  for  reproduction  he  would  have  been 
a  giant  composer.  As  a  pianist  he  has  never  had 
his  equal.  With  Liszt's  fire  and  Billow's  intel- 
lectuality he  nevertheless  transcended  them  both 
in  the  possession  of  a  subtle  something  that  de- 
fied analysis.  We  see  it  in  his  fugitive  composi- 
tions that  revel  on  technical  heights  hitherto  un- 
sealed.   Tausig  had  a  force,  a  virility  combined 

364 


LISZT  PUPILS  AND  LISZTIANA 

with  a  mental  insight,  that  made  him  peer  of  all 
pianists.  It  is  acknowledged  by  all  who  heard 
him  that  his  technic  outshone  all  others;  he  had 
the  whispering  and  crystalline  pianissimo  of 
JoseflFy,  the  liquidity  of  Thalberg's  touch,  with 
the  resistless  power  of  a  Rubinstein. 

He  literally  killed  himself  playing  the  piano; 
his  vivid  nature  felt  so  keenly  in  reproducing  the 
beautiful  and  glorious  thoughts  of  Bach,  Bee- 
thoven and  Chopin,  and,  Hke  a  sabre  that  was  too 
keen  for  its  own  scabbard,  he  wore  himself  out 
from  nervous  exhaustion.  Tausig  was  many- 
sided,  and  the  philosophical  bent  of  his  mind  may 
be  seen  in  the  few  fragments  of  original  music 
he  has  vouchsafed  us.  Take  a  Thalberg  oper- 
atic fantaisie  and  a  paraphrase  of  Tausig's,  say 
of  Tristan  and  Isolde,  and  compare  them;  then 
one  can  readily  gauge  the  vast  strides  piano  music 
has  taken.  Touch  pure  and  singing  was  the 
Thalbergian  ideal.  Touch  dramatic,  full  of 
variety,  is  the  Tausig  ideal.  One  is  vocal,  the 
other  instrumental,  and  both  seem  to  fulfill  their 
ideals.  Tausig  had  a  hundred  touches;  from  a 
feathery  murmur  to  an  explosive  crash  he  com- 
manded the  entire  orchestra  of  contrasts.  Thal- 
berg was  the  cultivated  gentleman  of  the  drawing- 
room,  elegiac,  but  one  who  never  felt  profoundly 
(glance  at  his  etude  on  repeated  notes).  Elegant 
always,  jocose  never.  Tausig  was  a  child  of  the 
nineteenth  century,  full  of  its  ideals,  its  aimless 
strivings,  its  restlessness,  its  unfaith  and  desper- 
ately sceptical  tone.     If   he  had  only  lived  he 

365 


FRANZ  LISZT 

would  have  left  an  imprint  on  our  modern  musi- 
cal life  as  deep  as  Franz  Liszt,  whose  pupil  he 
was.  Richard  Wagner  was  his  god  and  he  strove 
much  for  him  and  his  mighty  creations. 

ROSENTHAL 

"  You,  I  presume,  do  not  wish  for  biographical 
details  —  of  my  appearances  as  a  boy  in  Vienna 
and  later  in  St.  Petersburg,  of  my  early  studies 
with  Joseffy  and  later  with  Liszt,"  asked  the 
great  virtuoso.  "You  would  like  to  hear  something 
about  Liszt  ?  As  a  man  or  as  an  artist  ?  You 
know  I  was  with  him  ten  years,  and  can  flatter 
myself  that  I  have  known  him  intimately.  As  a 
man,  I  can  well  say  I  have  never  met  any  one  so 
good  and  noble  as  he.  Every  one  knows  of  his 
ever-ready  helpfulness  toward  struggling  artists, 
of  his  constant  willingness  to  further  the  cause 
of  charity.  And  when  was  there  ever  such  a 
friend  ?  I  need  only  refer  you  to  the  correspon- 
dence between  him  and  Wagner,  published  a 
year  ago,  for  proof  of  his  claims  to  highest  dis- 
tinction in  that  oft-abused  capacity.  One  is  not 
only  compelled  to  admire  the  untiring  efforts  to 
assist  Wagner  in  every  way  that  are  evidenced 
in  nearly  each  one  of  his  letters,  but  one  is  also 
obliged  to  appreciate  such  acts  for  which  no 
other  documents  exist  than  the  history  of  music 
in  our  day.  The  fact  alone  that  Liszt,  who  had 
every  stage  of  Germany  open  to  him  if  he  had 
so  wished,  never  composed  an  opera,  but  used 

366 


LISZT  PUPILS  AND  LISZTIANA 

his  influence  rather  in  behalf  of  Wagner's  works, 
speaks  fully  as  eloquently  as  the  many  letters 
that  attest  his  active  friendship.  For  Liszt  the 
artist,  my  love  and  admiration  are  equally  great. 
Even  in  his  inferior  works  can  be  discovered 
the  stamp  of  his  genius.  Do  you  know  the  Polo- 
naise, by  Tschaikowsky,  transcribed  by  him  ?  Is 
it  not  a  remarkable  effort  for  an  old  gentleman 
of  seventy-two  ?  And  the  third  Mephisto  Waltz 
for  piano?  Certain  compositions  of  his,  such 
as  Les  Preludes,  Die  Ideale,  Tasso,  the  Hun- 
garian Rhapsodies,  and  some  of  the  songs  and 
transcriptions  for  piano,  will  unquestionably  con- 
tinue to  be  performed  and  enjoyed  for  many, 
many  years  to  come. 

"  You  ask  how  he  played?  As  no  one  before 
him,  and  as  no  one  probably  will  ever  again.  I 
remember  when  I  first  went  to  him  as  a  boy  — 
he  was  in  Rome  at  the  time  —  he  used  to  play 
for  me  in  the  evening  by  the  hour — nocturnes 
by  Chopin,  Etudes  of  his  own  —  all  of  a  soft, 
dreamy  nature  that  caused  me  to  open  my  eyes 
in  wonder  at  the  marvellous  delicacy  and  finish 
of  his  touch.  The  embellishments  were  like  a 
cobweb  —  so  fine  —  or  like  the  texture  of  cost- 
liest lace.  I  thought,  after  what  I  had  heard  in 
Vienna,  that  nothing  further  would  astonish  me 
in  the  direction  of  digital  dexterity,  having  stud- 
ied with  Joseffy,  the  greatest  master  of  that  art. 
But  Liszt  was  more  wonderful  than  anybody  I 
had  ever  known,  and  he  had  further  surprises  in 
store  for  me.     I  had  never  heard  him  play  any- 

367 


FRANZ  LISZT 

thing  requiring  force,  and,  in  view  of  his  advanced 
age,  took  for  granted  that  he  had  fallen  off  from 
vfhsit  he  once  had  been." 


ARTHUR   FRIEDHEIM 

Arthur  Friedheim  was  born  of  German  pa- 
rentage in  St.  Petersburg,  October  26,  1859.  He 
lost  his  father  in  early  youth,  but  was  carefully 
reared  by  an  excellent  mother.  His  musical 
studies  were  begun  in  his  eighth  year,  and  his 
progress  was  so  rapid  that  he  was  enabled  to  make 
his  artistic  debut  before  the  St.  Petersburg  pub- 
lic in  the  following  year  by  playing  Field's  A-flat 
major  concerto.  He  created  a  still  greater  sen- 
sation, however,  after  another  twelve  months  had 
elapsed,  with  his  performance  of  Weber's  difl&cult 
piano  concerto,  reaping  general  admiration  for 
his  work.  Despite  these  successes,  the  youth  was 
then  submitted  to  a  thorough  university  educa- 
tion, and  in  1877  passed  his  academical  examina- 
tion with  great  honours.  But  now  the  musical 
promptings  of  his  warm  artist  soul,  no  longer 
able  to  endure  this  restraint,  having  revived, 
Friedheim  with  all  his  energy  again  devoted  him- 
self to  his  musical  advancement,  including  the 
study  of  composition,  and  it  proved  a  severe  blow, 
indeed,  to  him  when  his  family  soon  afterward 
met  with  reverses,  in  losing  their  estates,  thus 
robbing  the  young  artist  of  his  cheery  home  sur- 
roundings. 

From  this  time  Friedheim's  artistic  wander- 
368 


LISZT  PUPILS  AND  LISZTIANA 

ings  began,  and  fulfilling  a  long  cherished  desire, 
he,  with  his  mother,  first  paid  a  visit  to  that  mas- 
ter of  masters,  Franz  Liszt.  Then  he  went  to 
Dresden,  continuing  in  the  composition  of  an 
opera  begun  at  St.  Petersburg,  entitled  The  Last 
Days  of  Pompeii.  In  order  to  acquire  the  neces- 
sary routine  he  accepted  a  position  as  conductor 
of  operas  for  several  years,  when  an  irresistible 
force  once  more  led  his  steps  toward  Weimar, 
where,  after  he  had  produced  the  most  favoura- 
ble impression  by  the  performance  of  his  own 
piano  concerto,  with  Liszt  at  a  second  piano,  he 
took  up  his  permanent  abode  with  the  master, 
accompanying  him  to  Rome  and  Naples.  Mean- 
time Friedheim  concertised  in  Cairo,  Alexandria, 
and  Paris,  also  visiting  London  in  1882.  At  the 
request  of  Camille  Saint-Saens  fragments  of  his 
works  were  produced  during  his  stay  in  Paris. 
Friedheim  next  went  to  Vienna,  where  his  con- 
certs met  with  brilliant  success,  and  later  on  to 
Northern  Germany,  where  his  renown  as  a  great 
pianist  became  firmly  established.  He  enjoyed 
positive  triumphs  in  Berlin,  Leipsic  and  Carls- 
ruhe.  Friedheim's  technic,  his  tone,  touch,  mar- 
vellous certainty,  unequalled  force  and  endurance, 
his  broad  expression  and  that  rare  gift  —  a  style 
in  the  grand  manner — are  the  qualities  that  have 
universally  received  enthusiastic  praise.  In  la- 
ter years  he  travelled  extensively,  and  more  par- 
ticularly in  1884  to  1886,  in  Germany.  In  1887 
he  conducted  a  series  of  concerts  in  Leipsic,  in 
1888  he  revisited  London,  in  1889  he  made  a 

369 


FRANZ  LISZT 

tour  through  Russia  and  Poland;  a  second  tour 
through  Russia  was  made  in  1890,  including 
Bohemia,  Austria,  and  Galicia,  while  in  1891  he 
played  numerous  engagements  in  Germany  and 
also  in  London,  whence  he  came  to  this  country 
to  fulfil  a  very  short  engagement. 

Albert  Morris  Bagby  wrote  as  follows  in  his 
article,  "Some  Pupils  of  Liszt,"  in  the  Century 
about  twenty  years  ago: 

"Friedheim!  What  delightful  musical  mem- 
ories and  happy  recollections  are  the  rare  days 
spent  together  in  Weimar  that  name  excites! 
D'Albert  left  there  before  my  time,  and  though 
I  met  him  on  his  flying  visits  to  Weimar,  I  gen- 
erally think  of  him  as  I  first  saw  him,  seated  at 
a  piano  on  the  concert  platform. 

"  One  late  afternoon  in  August,  1885,  Liszt 
stood  before  a  wide-open  window  of  his  salon  on 
the  second  floor  of  the  court  gardener's  residence 
in  Weimar,  and  his  thoughtful  gaze  wandered 
out  beyond  the  long  row  of  hothouses  and  narrow 
beds  of  rare  shrubs  to  the  rich  leafy  growth  which 
shaded  the  glorious  park  inclosing  this  modest 
home.  He  was  in  a  serene  state  of  mind  after 
an  hour  at  whist  in  which  he  had  won  the  rubber, 
and  now,  while  his  young  companions  were  put- 
ting the  card-tables  and  chairs  back  into  their 
accustomed  places  about  the  room,  he  stood 
silent  and  alone.  Any  one  of  us  would  have  given 
more  than  'a  penny  for  his  thoughts,'  a  fact 
which  he  probably  divined,  for,  without  turning 
his  head,  he  said;    'Friedheim  did  indeed  play 

370 


LISZT  PUPILS  AND  LISZTIANA 

beautifully!'  referring  to  the  young  pianist's 
performance  of  his  A  major  concerto  that  after- 
noon in  the  class  lesson. 

"  'And  the  accompaniment  was  magnificently 
done,  too!'  added  one  of  the  small  party. 

"  *Ah!'  exclaimed  the  master,  with  an  ani- 
mated look  and  gesture  which  implied,  *  that 
goes  without  saying.'  'Friedheim,'  said  he,  and 
lifted  his  hand  with  a  proud  sweep  to  indicate 
his  estimation  of  his  favourite  pupil,  who  had 
supplied  the  orchestral  part  on  a  second  piano. 
After  Friedheim's  triumphal  debut  at  Leipsic  in 
the  spring  of  1884,  Liszt  was  so  much  gratified 
that  he  expressed  with  unwonted  warmth  his 
belief  that  the  young  man  would  yet  become  the 
greatest  piano  virtuoso  of  the  age.  He  was  then 
just  twenty-four  years  old,  and  his  career  since 
that  event  points  toward  the  fulfilment  of  the 
prophecy. 

"Arthur  Friedheim  is  the  most  individual  per- 
former I  have  ever  heard.  A  very  few  execu- 
tants equal  him  in  mere  finger  dexterity,  but  he 
surpasses  them  all  in  his  gigantic  strength  at  the 
instrument  and  in  marvellous  clearness  and  bril- 
liancy. At  times  he  plays  with  the  unbridled 
impetuosity  of  a  cyclone ;  and  even  while  appa- 
rently dealing  the  piano  mighty  blows,  which  from 
other  hands  would  sound  forced  and  discordant, 
they  never  cease  to  be  melodious.  This  musical, 
penetrating  quality  of  touch  is  the  chief  charm  of 
Friedheim's  playing.  He  makes  the  piano  sing, 
but  its  voice  is  full  and  sonorous.     If  he  plays  a 

371 


FRANZ  LISZT 

pianissimo  passage  the  effect  is  as  clear  and  sweet 
as  a  perfectly  attuned  silver  bell,  and  his  gradu- 
ated increase  or  diminution  of  tone  is  the  acme  of 
artistic  finish.  No  living  pianist  performs  Liszt's 
compositions  so  well  as  Friedheim.  This  fact 
was  unanimously  mentioned  by  the  critics  upon 
his  first  appearance  in  Berlin  in  a  'Liszt  con- 
cert,' in  conjunction  with  the  fear  that  he  would 
not  succeed  as  an  interpreter  of  Beethoven  and 
Chopin;  which,  however,  the  new  virtuoso  has 
since  proved  groundless.  Friedheim  is  one  of 
the  most  enjoyable  and  inspiriting  of  the  great 
pianists.  His  playing  of  Liszt's  second  rhap- 
sody produces  an  electric  shock;  and  once  heard 
from  him  La  Campanella  remains  in  the  memory 
an  ineffaceable  tone  poem.  To  me  he  has  made 
likewise  indelible  Chopin's  lovely  D-flat  major 
prelude. 

Friedheim  is  of  medium  height  and  weight; 
has  regular,  clear-cut  features,  dark  brown  eyes, 
and  hair  pushed  straight  back  from  a  high,  broad 
forehead  and  falling  over  his  coat  collar,  artist 
fashion.  In  his  street  dress,  with  a  bronze  vel- 
vet jacket,  great  soft  felt  hat  and  a  gold  medal- 
lion portrait  of  Liszt  worn  as  a  scarf  pin,  he  is  the 
typical  musician.  His  resemblance  to  the  early 
pictures  of  Liszt  is  as  marked  as  that  of  D'Albert 
to  Tausig.  He  was  born  and  bred  in  St.  Peters- 
burg, though  his  parents  are  German.  I  know 
nothing  of  his  early  instructors,  but  it  is  sufl&cient 
to  say  that  he  was  at  least  nine  years  with  Liszt. 
Fortune  favoured  him  with  a  relative  of  unusual 

2,1^ 


LISZT  PUPILS  AND  LISZTIANA 

mental  power  who  has  made  his  advancement 
her  hfe  work.  To  these  zealous  mothers  of 
musicians  the  world  is  indebted  for  some  of  the 
greatest  artistic  achievements  of  every  time  and 
period.  There  are  many  celebrated  instances 
where  application  is  almost  entirely  lacking  or 
fluctuating  in  the  child  of  genius,  and  the  mother 
supplied  the  deficiency  of  character  until  the 
artist  was  fully  developed,  and  steadiness  of 
purpose  had  become  routine  with  him.  One 
evening  I  was  sitting  with  Friedheim  and  his 
mother  in  one  of  those  charming  restaurant 
gardens  which  abound  in  Weimar  when  we  were 
joined  by  two  of  the  Lisztianer,  convivial  spirits 
who  led  a  happy-go-lucky  existence.  'Come, 
Arthur,'  said  one,  'we  will  go  to  the  "Armbrust" 
for  a  few  minutes  —  music  there  to-night.  Will 
be  right  back,  Mrs.  Friedheim.'  'No,'  replied 
the  mother,  pleasantly,  '  Arthur  remains  with  me 
this  evening.'  'But,  mother,  we  will  be  gone 
only  a  few  minutes,  and  I  have  already  practiced 
seven  hours  to-day,'  entreated  the  sor..  'Yes, 
dear  child,  and  you  must  practice  seven  more  to- 
morrow. I  think  you  had  better  remain  with 
me,'  responded  his  parent.  Friedheim  good- 
naturedly  assented  to  his  mother's  speech,  for 
the  nocturnal  merry-makings  of  a  certain  clique 
of  divers  artists  at  the  'Hotel  zum  Elephanten' 
were  too  well-known  to  risk  denial." 


373 


FRANZ  LISZT 


JOSEFFY 

Descent  counts  for  much  in  matters  artistic  as 
well  as  in  the  breeding  of  racehorses.  "Tell  me 
who  the  master  is  and  I  will  describe  for  you  the 
pupil,"  cry  some  theorists  who  might  be  called 
extremists.  How  many  to-day  know  the  name 
of  Anton  Rubinstein's  master?  Yet  the  peda- 
gogue Villoing  laid  the  foundation  of  the  great 
Russian  pianist's  musical  education,  an  educa- 
tion completed  by  the  genial  Franz  Liszt.  In  the 
case,  however,  of  Rafael  Joseffy  he  was  a  famous 
pupil  of  a  famous  master.  There  are  some  crit- 
ics who  claim  that  Karl  Tausig  represents  the 
highest  development  of  piano  playing  in  this 
century  of  piano-playing  heroes.  His  musical 
temperament  so  finely  fibred,  his  muscular 
system  like  steel  thrice  tempered  is  duplicated 
in  his  pupil,  who,  at  an  age  when  boys  are 
gazing  at  the  world  across  the  threshold  of  Toy- 
land,  was  an  accredited  artist,  a  virtuoso  in 
knee-breeches! 

Rafael  Joseflfy  stands  to-day  for  all  that  is  ex- 
quisite and  poetic  in  the  domain  of  the  piano. 
His  touch  is  original,  his  manipulation  of  the 
mechanism  of  the  instrument  unapproachable, 
a  virtuoso  among  virtuosi,  and  the  beauty  of  his 
tone,  its  velvety,  aristocratic  quality,  so  free  from 
any  suspicion  of  harshness  or  brutality,  gives  him 
a  unique  position  in  the  music-loving  world.  There 
is  magic  in  his  attack,  magic  and  moonlight  in 

374 


LISZT  PUPILS  AND  LISZTIANA 

his  playing  of  a  Chopin  nocturne,  and  brilliancy 
—  a  meteor-like  brilliancy  —  in  his  performance 
of  a  Liszt  concerto. 

This  rare  combination  of  the  virtuoso  and  the 
poet  places  Joseflfy  outside  the  pale  of  popular 
"pianism."  From  Tausig  he  inherited  his  keen 
and  severe  sense  of  rhythm;  from  his  native 
country,  Hungary,  he  absorbed  brilliancy  and 
colour  sense.  When  Joseffy  was  young  he  de- 
lighted in  the  exhibition  of  his  fabulous  technic, 
but  he  has  mellowed,  he  has  matured,  and  super- 
imposed upon  the  brilliancies  of  his  ardent 
youth  are  the  thoughtful  interpretations  of  the 
intellectual  artist.  He  is  a  classical  pianist  par 
excellence,  and  his  readings  of  Bach,  Beethoven, 
Schumann,  and  Brahms  are  authoritative  and 
final.  To  the  sensitive  finish  he  now  unites  a 
breadth  of  tone  and  feeling,  and  you  may  gauge 
the  catholicity  of  the  man  by  his  love  for  both 
Chopin  and  Brahms. 

There  you  have  Joseffy,  an  interpreter  of 
Brahms  and  Chopin!  No  need  to  expatiate 
further  on  his  versatility!  His  style  has  under- 
gone during  the  past  five  years  a  thorough  puri- 
fication. He  has  successfully  combated  the 
temptation  of  excess  in  colour,  of  the  too  lusty 
exuberance  in  the  use  of  his  material,  of  abuse  of 
the  purely  decorative  side  of  his  art.  Touching 
the  finer  rim  of  the  issues  of  his  day  Joseffy  emu- 
lates the  French  poet,  Paul  Verlaine,  in  his  de- 
votion to  the  nuance,  to  the  shade  within  shade 
that  may  be  expressed  on  the  keyboard  of  the 

375 


FRANZ  LISZT 

piano.  Yet  his  play  never  lacks  the  robust  ring, 
the  virile  accent.  He  is  no  mere  pianissimist, 
striving  for  effects  of  the  miniaturist;  rather  in 
his  grasp  of  the  musical  content  of  a  composition 
does  he  reveal  his  acuity  and  fine  spiritual  temper. 

OSCAR  BERINGER 

"  To  Franz  Liszt,  who  towers  high  above  all 
his  predecessors,  must  be  given  pride  of  place. 

"  In  1870 1  had  the  good  fortune  to  go  with  Tau- 
sig  to  the  Beethoven  Festival  held  at  Weimar  by 
the  Allgemeiner  Musik  Verein,  and  there  I  met 
Liszt  for  the  first  time.  I  had  the  opportunity 
of  learning  to  know  him  from  every  point  of  view, 
as  pianist,  conductor,  composer,  and,  in  his 
private  capacity,  as  a  man  —  and  every  aspect 
seemed  to  me  equally  magnificent. 

"  His  remarkable  personality  had  an  inde- 
scribable fascination,  which  made  itself  felt  at 
once  by  all  who  came  into  contact  with  him. 
This  wonderful  magnetism  and  power  to  charm 
all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men  was  illustrated  in 
a  delightful  way.  He  was  walking  down  Regent 
Street  one  day,  on  his  way  to  his  concert  at  the 
St.  James'  Hall.  As  he  passed  the  cab-rank,  he 
was  recognised,  and  the  cabbies  as  one  man  took 
off  their  hats  and  gave  three  rousing  cheers  for 
'The  Habby  Liszt.'  The  man  who  can  evoke 
the  enthusiasm  of  a  London  cabby,  except  by 
paying  him  treble  his  fare,  is  indeed  unique  and 
inimitable! 

376 


LISZT  PUPILS  AND  LISZTIANA 

"  As  a  Conductor,  the  musical  world  owes  him 
an  undying  debt  of  gratitude  for  having  been  the 
first  to  produce  Wagner's  Lohengrin,  and  to  re- 
vive Tannhauser  in  the  face  of  the  opprobrium 
heaped  upon  this  work  by  the  whole  of  the  Euro- 
pean press.  It  was  he,  too,  who  first  produced 
Berlioz's  Benvenuto  Cellini  and  many  other 
works,  which,  though  neglected  and  improperly 
understood  at  that  time,  have  since  come  into 
their  kingdom  and  received  due  recognition. 

"  As  a  Composer,  I  do  not  think  that  Liszt  has 
hitherto  been  esteemed  as  highly  as  he  deserves. 
If  only  for  having  invented  the  symphonic  poem, 
which  was  an  absolutely  new  form  of  orchestral 
composition,  he  has  merited  the  highest  honours; 
while  his  pre-eminence  is  still  undisputed  in  the 
bravura  style  of  pianoforte  works,  without  one 
or  more  of  which  no  pianoforte  recital  seems  com- 
plete. The  same  compliment  is  not  paid  his 
orchestral  works,  which  are  performed  far  too 
rarely. 

"  Words  cannot  describe  him  as  a  Pianist  —  he 
was  incomparable  and  unapproachable." 

CLARA  NOVELLO 

There  are  interesting  anecdotes  of  great 
musicians.  Rossini  was  her  intimate  friend  and 
adviser  for  years.  In  Paris  she  knew  Chopin, 
who  came  to  the  house  often  and  would  only  play 
for  them  if  "la  petite  Clara  would  recite  Peter 
Piper  Picked."     She  remembered  waltzing  to 

377 


FRANZ  LISZT 

his  and  Thalberg's  playing.  Later,  when  she 
was  studying  in  Milan  and  knew  Liszt,  she  sang 
at  one  of  his  concerts  when  no  one  else  would  do 
so,  because  he  had  offended  the  Milanese  by  a 
pungent  newspaper  article.  He  gave  her  cour- 
age to  have  a  tooth  out  by  playing  Weber's  Con- 
certstiick.  She  remembered  hearing  Paganini 
play  when  that  arch-trickster  took  out  a  pair  of 
scissors  and  cut  three  of  the  strings  of  his  violin 
so  that  they  hung  down  loose,  and  on  the  fourth 
performed  his  Witches'  Dance,  so  that "  the  lights 
seemed  to  turn  blue." 

BIZET 

We  are  not  accustomed  to  thinking  of  the  com- 
poser of  Carmen  as  a  pianist,  but  the  following 
anecdote  from  the  London  Musical  Standard 
throws  new  light  upon  the  subject: 

"  It  may  not  be  generally  known  that  the  French 
composer,  Bizet,  possessed  to  a  very  high  degree 
two  artistic  qualities:  a  brilliant  technique  and 
an  extraordinary  skill  in  score  reading.  On  vari- 
ous occasions  he  gave  proof  of  this  great  ability. 
One  of  the  most  interesting  is  the  following: 

"  Bizet's  fellow-countryman,  the  composer  Hal- 
^vy,  who  filled  the  position  of  secretary  to  the 
Academy  of  Fine  Arts  in  Paris,  had  gathered  a 
few  of  his  friends  at  his  house  for  a  little  supper. 
In  the  circle  were  Liszt  and  Bizet.  After  they 
had  finished  their  repast,  the  company  went  to 
the  host's  music  room.     Gathered  around  the 

378 


LISZT  PUPILS  AND  LISZTIANA 

fireplace,  which  increased  the  charm  of  comfort, 
and  with  cigars  and  coffee,  the  guests  gave  them- 
selves up  to  an  animated  conversation;  finally 
Liszt  seated  himself  at  the  piano.  The  famous 
master  played  one  of  his  compositions  which 
was  unknown  to  those  present.  He  overcame 
its  tremendous  difficulties  with  the  customary 
audacity  and  strength.  A  storm  of  applause 
followed  the  brilliant  execution.  Liszt  ended 
with  a  brilliant  passage  which  seemed  absolutely 
impossible  to  mortal  fingers.  Every  one  pressed 
around  the  great  pianist,  shaking  his  hands  en- 
thusiastically and  admiring  not  only  his  un- 
equalled playing,  but  praising  also  the  clever 
composition,  which  could  have  been  written  only 
by  so  masterful  a  composer. 

"'Yes,'  replied  Liszt,  'the  piece  is  difficult, 
terribly  difficult,  and  in  all  Europe  I  know  only 
two  pianists  who  are  able  to  play  it  with  the  in- 
terpretation which  belongs  to  it,  and  in  the  tempo 
which  I  have  used,  Von  Biilow  and  myself.' 

"  Haldvy,  with  whom  Bizet  had  studied,  had 
also  joined  the  circle  around  the  piano  and  com- 
plimented the  master.  Suddenly  turning  to  the 
young  Bizet,  whose  fine  memory  and  ability  he 
well  knew,  he  said: 

"'Did  you  notice  that  passage?'  He  ac- 
companied the  question  with  a  few  chords  which 
sketched  the  passage  in  question,  which  had 
aroused  his  attention.  Accepting  the  implied  in- 
vitation, Bizet  took  his  place  at  the  piano,  and, 
without  the  slightest  hesitation,   repeated   the 

379 


FRANZ  LISZT 

passage  which  had  drawn  out  the  admiration  of 
his  teacher. 

"  Liszt  observed  the  clever  youngster  with  as- 
tonishment, while  Hal6vy,  smiling  slyly,  could 
scarcely  suppress  his  joy  over  Liszt's  surprise. 

"  *  Just  wait  a  moment,  young  man,  just  wait!' 
said  Liszt,  interrupting.  'I  have  the  manuscript 
with  me.     It  will  help  your  memory.' 

"The  manuscript  was  quickly  brought,  and 
placed  upon  the  piano  rack.  Bizet,  to  the  gen- 
eral astonishment,  immediately  took  up  the  dif- 
ficult piece,  and  played  it  through  to  the  final 
chord  with  a  verve  and  rapidity  which  no  one 
had  expected  from  him.  Not  once  was  there  a 
sign  of  weakness  or  hesitation.  An  enthusiastic 
and  long  clapping  of  hands  followed  the  playing. 
Halevy  continued  to  smile,  enjoying  to  the  full 
the  triumph  of  his  favourite  pupil. 

"  But  Liszt,  who  always  rose  to  an  occasion  and 
was  never  chary  of  praise  for  others,  stepped  to 
the  young  man's  side  after  the  wave  of  applause 
had  subsided,  pressed  his  hand  in  a  friendly  man- 
ner, and  said  with  irresistible  kindness,  'My 
young  friend,  up  to  the  present  time  I  believed 
that  there  were  only  two  men  capable  of  over- 
coming the  tremendous  difficulties  which  I  wrote 
in  that  piece,  but  I  deceived  myself  —  there  are 
three  of  us;  and  I  must  add,  in  order  to  be  just, 
that  the  youngest  of  us  is  perhaps  the  cleverest 
and  the  most  brilliant.'  " 


380 


LISZT  PUPILS  AND  LISZTIANA 


SGAMBATI 

"  One  of  the  pioneers  of  classical  music  in  Italy, 
and  one  of  its  most  talented  composers  of  cham- 
ber music  and  in  symphonic  forms,  is  Giovanni 
Sgambati,  born  in  Rome,  May  i8,  1843,"  writes 
Edward  Burlingame  Hill,  in  the  Etude.  "  His 
father  was  a  lawyer;  his  mother,  an  English- 
woman, was  the  daughter  of  Joseph  Gott,  the  Eng- 
lish sculptor.  There  had  been  some  idea  of  mak- 
ing a  lawyer  of  young  Sgambati,  but  the  intensity 
of  his  interest  in  music  and  his  obvious  talent 
precluded  the  idea  of  any  other  career.  When  he 
was  but  six  years  old,  his  father  died,  and  he 
went  with  his  mother  to  live  in  Trevii,  in  Umbria, 
where  she  soon  married  again.  Even  at  this  early 
age  he  played  in  public,  sang  contralto  solos  in 
church,  and  also  conducted  small  orchestras. 
When  a  little  older  he  studied  the  piano,  harmony 
and  composition  with  Natalucci,  a  pupil  of  Zinga- 
relli,  a  famous  teacher  at  the  Naples  conservatory. 
He  returned  in  i860  to  Rome,  where  he  became 
at  once  popular  as  a  pianist,  in  spite  of  the  sever- 
ity of  his  programmes,  for  he  played  the  works 
of  Beethoven,  Chopin  and  Schumann,  and  the 
fugues  of  Bach  and  Handel.  Many  of  these 
works  were  entirely  unknown  to  Italian  audiences; 
he  thus  became  an  ardent  propagandist  of  the 
best  literature  of  the  piano.  His  next  teacher 
was  Professor  Aldega,  master  of  the  Capella  Li- 
beriana  of  Santa  Maria  Maggiore.     He  was  on 


FRANZ  LISZT 

the  point  of  leaving  for  Germany  for  further  study 
when  Liszt  came  to  Rome,  became  interested  in 
Sgambati  and  took  him  in  charge  for  special  in- 
struction in  the  mysteries  of  higher  piano  play- 
ing. He  soon  became  the  leading  exponent  of 
the  Liszt  school  of  technic  and  interpretation. 
Sgambati  was  the  soloist  in  a  famous  series  of 
classical  chamber  music  concerts  inaugurated  in 
Rome  by  Ramaciotti;  he  was  (as  mentioned  be- 
fore) the  first  interpreter  of  the  works  of  Schu- 
mann, who  in  the  years  1862-63  was  virtually 
unknown  in  Italy.  Later  he  began  to  give  orches- 
tral concerts  at  which  the  symphonies  and  con- 
certos of  the  German  masters  were  given  for  the 
first  time.  In  1866,  when  the  Dante  Gallery 
was  inaugurated,  Liszt  chose  Sgambati  to  con- 
duct his  Dante  symphony.  On  this  occasion  Bee- 
thoven's Eroica  symphony  was  given  for  the  first 
time  in  Rome. 

"  In  1869,  he  travelled  in  Germany  with  Liszt, 
meeting  many  musicians  of  note,  among  them 
Wagner,  Rubinstein,  and  Saint-Saens,  hearing 
The  Rhinegold  at  Munich.  Wagner,  in  par- 
ticular, became  so  much  interested  in  Sgam- 
bati's  compositions  that  he  secured  a  publisher 
for  them  by  his  emphatic  recommendations.  On 
returning  to  Rome,  Sgambati  founded  a  free 
piano  class  at  the  Academy  of  St.  Cecilia,  since 
adopted  as  a  part  of  its  regular  course  of  instruc- 
tion. In  1878,  he  became  professor  of  the  piano 
at  the  Academy,  and  at  present  is  its  director. 
In  1896,  he  founded  the  Nuova  Societa  Musicale 

382 


LISZT  PUPILS  AND  LISZTIANA 

Romana  (the  Roman  New  Musical  Society)  for 
increasing  interest  in  Wagnerian  opera.  Sgam- 
bati  has  been  an  occasional  visitor  to  foreign 
cities,  notably  London  and  Paris,  both  in  the 
capacity  of  pianist  and  as  conductor;  he  has  led 
performances  of  his  symphonies  in  various  Italian 
cities,  and  at  concerts  where  the  presence  of  roy- 
alty lent  distinction  to  the  audience. 

"  Miss  Bettina  Walker,  a  pupil  of  Sgambati  in 
1879,  gives  a  most  delightful  picture  of  Sgam- 
bati in  her  book.  My  Musical  Experiences.  A 
few  extracts  may  assist  in  forming  an  idea  of  his 
personality.  'He  then  played  three  or  four 
pieces  of  Liszt's,  winding  up  the  whole  with  a 
splendid  reading  of  Bach's  Chromatic  Fantasy. 
In  everything  that  he  played,  Sgambati  far  ex- 
ceeded all  that  I  could  have  anticipated.  His 
lovely,  elastic  touch,  the  weight  and  yet  the  soft- 
ness of  his  wrist  staccato,  the  swing  and  go  of  his 
rhythmic  beat,  the  colouring  rich  and  warm,  and 
yet  most  exquisitely  delicate,  and  over  all  the 
atmosphere  of  grace,  the  charm  and  the  repose 
which  perfect  mastery  alone  can  give.' — 'But 
to  return  to  the  relation  of  my  studies  with  Sgam- 
bati. He  gave  me  the  scales  to  practice  in  thirds, 
and  arpeggios  in  the  diminished  sevenths,  for  rais- 
ing the  fingers  from  the  keyboard — recommend- 
ing these  as  the  best  possible  daily  drills  for  the 
fingers.  He  also  gave  me  some  guidance  in  the 
first  book  of  Kullak's  octave-studies  and  he  tried 
to  initiate  me  into  the  elastic  swing  and  movement 
of  the  wrist,  so  important  in  the  octave-playing 

3^3 


FRANZ  LISZT 

of  modem  compositions.  Sgambati's  playing 
of  Liszt  was,  now  that  I  compare  him  with  many 
others  whom  I  have  since  heard,  more  poetical 
than  any.  In  the  sudden  fortissimi  so  character- 
istic of  the  school  his  tone  was  always  rich  and 
full,  never  wooden  or  shrill;  while  his  pianissimi 
were  so  subtle  and  delicate,  and  the  nuances,  the 
touches  of  beauty,  were  fraught  with  a  sighing, 
lingering,  quite  inimitable  sweetness,  which  one 
could  compare  to  nothing  more  material  than 
the  many  hues  where  sky  and  ocean  seem  to  melt 
and  blend,  in  a  dream  of  tender  ecstasy,  along 
the  coast-line  between  Baia  and  Naples.' " 

BACHE 

Walter  Bache  died  April,  1888,  and  the  Lon- 
don Figaro  gives  the  following  sketch  of  this 
artist: 

"  The  awfully  sudden  death  of  poor  Walter 
Bache  on  Monday  night  sent  a  shock  through  the 
whole  of  the  London  world  of  music.  Some  of 
his  most  intimate  friends  were  present  at  the  final 
popular  concert  on  that  evening,  but  none  of 
them  knew  anything  at  all  of  the  death.  We 
have  it  on  the  authority  of  a  member  of  his  fam- 
ily that  not  even  those  whom  he  held  most  dear 
were  in  the  slightest  degree  aware  that  he  was  in 
any  danger.  Only  a  few  days  ago  he  was  pres- 
ent at  a  concert  in  St.  James'  Hall.  But  it  seems 
he  caught  a  chill.  Next  day  he  became  worse, 
the  cold  doubtless  settled  upon  his  lungs,  and  the 

384 


LISZT  PUPILS  AND  LISZTIANA 

third  day  he  died.  Notification  of  the  death  did 
not  reach  even  the  daily  papers  until  midnight. 
The  obituary  writers  were  then  certainly  not  as- 
sisted by  Sir  George  Grove,  who,  in  the  thou- 
sands of  pages  which  form  the  four  gigantic  vol- 
umes of  his  so-called  Dictionary  of  Musicians, 
could  not  spare  a  paragraph  to  narrate  the  story 
of  the  life  of  one  who  for  a  quarter  of  a  century 
has  been  a  central  figure  of  English  musical 
life,  and  who  from  his  gentleness,  his  gifts  and 
his  son-like  affection  for  his  master  Liszt  will 
shine  as  a  bright  picture  in  the  pages  of  English 
musical  history. 

*'  We  need  not  go  very  deeply  into  the  history 
of  Walter  Bache's  life.  He  was  born  in  June, 
1842,  at  Birmingham,  and  was  the  son  of  an  Uni- 
tarian minister.  From  his  birth  till  his  death 
two  special  points  stand  out  boldly  in  his  career. 
Until  his  'prodigy'  brother  Edward  died  in 
1858  he  was  taught  only  by  Stimpson,  of  Birm- 
ingham. The  death  of  his  brother  was  the  first 
great  incident  of  his  life.  His  own  education  was 
then  more  thoroughly  cared  for  than  before,  and 
he  was  sent  to  Leipsic,  where,  under  Plaidy, 
Moscheles,  Richter  (not  the  conductor)  and 
Hauptman,  he  was  a  fellow  student  of  Sullivan, 
Carl  Rosa,  J.  F.  Bamett  and  Franklin  Tay- 
lor. All  five  boys  have  since  become  eminent, 
but  each  one  in  a  totally  different  line,  and,  in- 
deed, it  may  fairly  be  said  that  to  a  great  ex- 
tent the  Leipsic  class  of  that  period  held  the  for- 
tunes of  modern  musical  England.     When  the 

385 


FRANZ  LISZT 

class  broke  up  in  1861  Bache  travelled  in  Italy, 
and  in  1862  at  his  meeting  with  Liszt  occurred 
the  second  great  incident  in  his  career.  From 
that  time  Liszt  and  Bache  were  fast  friends.  But 
Bache  to  the  day  of  his  death  never  aspired  to  be 
more  than  the  pupil  of  his  master. 

"  Teach  he  must  do  for  daily  bread,  but  com- 
pose he  would  not,  as  he  knew  he  could  not  sur- 
pass Liszt,  although  all  his  savings  were  devoted 
to  the  Liszt  propaganda.  It  is  not  for  us,  stand- 
ing as  we  do  on  the  brink  of  the  grave  of  a  good 
man,  to  determine  whether  he  was  right  or  wrong. 
It  will  suffice  that  Walter  Bache' s  devotion  to 
Liszt  was  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  the  most 
sentimental  things  of  a  musically  material  age. 
Liszt  rewarded  him  on  his  last  visit  to  London 
by  attending  a  reception  which  Bache,  at  great 
expense,  gave  in  his  honour  at  the  Grosvenor 
Gallery.  Bache  is  now  dead;  a  blameless  and  a 
useful  life  cut  short  in  its  very  prime." 

RUBINSTEIN 

"  Antoine  Rubinstein,  of  whom  no  one  in  Paris 
had  ever  heard  before,  for  this  great  artist  had 
the  coquettish  temerity  to  disdain  the  assistance 
of  the  press,  and  no  advance  notice,  none  at  all, 
you  understand,  had  announced  his  apparition," 
has  written  Saint-Saens,  "  made  his  appearance  in 
his  concerto  in  G  major,  with  orchestra,  in  the 
lovely  Herz  concert  room,  so  novel  in  construc- 
tion and  so  elegant  in  aspect,  of  which  one  can 
386 


LISZT  PUPILS  AND  LISZTIANA 

no  more  avail  himself  to-day.  Useless  to  say, 
there  was  not  a  single  paying  hearer  in  the  room, 
but  next  morning,  nevertheless,  the  artist  was 
celebrated,  and  at  the  second  concert  there  was 
a  prodigious  jam.  I  was  there  at  the  second  con- 
cert, and  at  the  iSrst  notes  I  was  overthrown  and 
chained  to  the  car  of  the  conqueror. 

"  Concerts  followed  one  another,  and  I  did  not 
miss  a  single  one.  Some  one  proposed  to  present 
me  to  the  great  artist,  but  in  spite  of  his  youth 
(he  was  then  twenty-eight),  and  in  spite  of  his 
reputation  for  urbanity,  he  awakened  in  me  a 
horrible  timidity;  the  idea  of  being  near  him,  of 
addressing  a  word  to  him,  terrified  me  profoundly. 
It  was  only  at  his  second  coming  to  Paris,  a  year 
later,  that  I  dared  to  brave  his  presence.  The 
ice  between  us  two  was  quickly  broken.  I  ac- 
quired his  friendship  in  deciphering  upon  his 
own  piano  the  orchestral  score  of  his  Ocean  Sym- 
phony. I  read  very  well  then,  and  his  symphonic 
music,  written  large  and  black,  was  not  very 
difl&cult  to  read. 

"  From  this  day  a  lively  sympathy  united  us;  the 
simplicity  and  evident  sincerity  of  my  admira- 
tion touched  him.  We  were  together  assidu- 
ously, often  played  together  for  four  hands,  sub- 
jected to  rude  tests  the  piano  which  served  as 
our  field  of  battle,  without  regard  to  the  ears  of 
our  hearers.  It  was  a  good  time!  We  made 
music  with  passion  simply  for  the  sake  of  mak- 
ing it,  and  we  never  had  enough.  I  was  so  happy 
to  have  encountered  an  artist  who  was  wholly  an 

387 


FRANZ  LISZT 

artist,  exempt  from  the  littleness  which  some- 
times makes  so  bad  a  barrier  around  great  talent. 
He  came  back  every  winter,  and  always  enlarged 
his  success  and  consolidated  our  friendship." 

VIARDOT- GARCIA 

With  the  exception  of  the  Bachs,  who  were 
noted  musicians  for  six  generations,  and  the  Vien- 
nese branch  of  the  Strauss  dynasty,  there  is  per- 
haps no  musical  family  that  affords  a  more  in- 
teresting illustration  of  heredity  in  a  special  tal- 
ent than  the  Garcias.  The  elder  Garcia,  who 
was  bom  in  1775,  was  not  only  a  great  tenor  and 
teacher,  but  a  prolific  composer  of  operas.  His 
two  famous  daughters  also  became  composers, 
as  well  as  singers.  Madame  Viardot  (who  died  in 
1910)  was  so  lucky  as  to  be  able  to  base  her  oper- 
ettas on  librettos  written  by  Turgenev.  Liszt 
said  of  her  that  "  in  all  that  concerns  method  and 
execution,  feeling  and  expression,  it  would  be 
hard  to  find  a  name  worthy  to  be  mentioned  with 
that  of  Malibran's  sister,"  and  Wagner  was 
amazed  and  delighted  when  she  sang  the  Isolde 
music  in  a  whole  act  of  his  Tristan  at  sight. 
She  studied  the  piano  with  Liszt  and  played  brill- 
iantly. 


388 


LISZT  PUPILS  AND   LISZTIANA 


LISZT  AS  A  FREEMASON 

Memorial  tablets  have  been  placed  on  each  of 
the  two  houses  at  Weimar  in  which  Liszt  used 
to  reside.  He  first  lived  at  the  Altenburg  and 
later  on  at  the  Hofgartnerei.  The  act  of  piety 
was  undertaken  by  the  Allgemeiner  Deutscher 
Musikverein,  of  which  organisation  Liszt  was  the 
president  up  to  the  time  of  his  death. 

It  has  been  asserted  that  Liszt  was  a  Freemason 
after  his  consecration  as  a  priest.  This  has  been 
contradicted,  but  the  following  from  the  Free- 
masofCs  Journal  appears  to  settle  the  question: 

"  On  the  31st  of  July  last  one  of  the  greatest 
artists  and  men  departed  at  Bayreuth  for  the 
eternal  east,  who  had  proved  himself  a  worthy 
member  of  our  brotherhood  by  his  deeds  through 
his  whole  eventful  life.  It  is  Brother  Franz 
Liszt,  on  whose  grave  we  deposit  an  acacia 
branch.  Millions  of  florins  Franz  Liszt  had 
earned  on  his  triumphal  career — for  others.  His 
art,  his  time,  his  life,  were  given  to  those  who 
claimed  it.  Thus  he  journeyed,  a  hving  embodi- 
ment of  the  St.  Simonism  to  which  he  once  be- 
longed, through  his  earthly  pilgrimage.  Brother 
Franz  Liszt  was  admitted  into  the  brotherhood 
in  the  year  1844,  at  the  lodge  'Unity'  ('Zur  Einig- 
keit'),  in  Frankfort-on-the-Main,  by  George 
Kloss,  with  the  composer,  W.  Ch.  Speyer  as  wit- 
ness, and  in  the  presence  of  Felix  von  Lichnow- 
sky.     He  was  promoted  to  the  second  degree 

389 


FRANZ  LISZT 

in  a  lodge  at  Berlin,  and  elected  master  in  1870, 
as  member  of  the  lodge  'Zur  Einigkeit,'  in 
Budapest.  Since  1845  he  was  also  honorary 
member  of  the  L.  Modestia  cum  Libertate  at 
Zurich.  If  there  ever  was  a  Freemason  in  favour 
with  Pope  Pius  IX  it  was  Franz  Liszt,  created 
abb^  in  1865  in  Rome." 

A  LISZT   SON? 

A  letter  from  Paris  to  the  Vienna  Monday  Re- 
view says  that  in  the  salon  of  the  Champ  de  Mars 
a  picture  is  on  exhibition,  called  Italian  Bagpi- 
per. While  its  artistic  points  are  hardly  worthy 
of  special  mention  the  striking  resemblance  of 
this  work  by  Michael  Vallet  to  the  facial  traits  of 
Franz  Liszt  puzzled  the  jury  not  a  little,  and  will 
doubtless  create  much  interest  among  the  visitors 
of  the  gallery.  The  model  for  the  subject  was 
a  boat-hand  of  Genoa  named  Angelo  Giocati- 
Buonaventi,  fifty-six  years  of  age.  It  was  while 
strolling  about  the  Genoese  wharves  that  Vallet 
noticed  the  sparse  form  of  Angelo,  whose  beard- 
less face  recalled  to  him  at  once  Franz  Liszt's. 

Angelo  consented  willingly  to  pose  for  the 
piper,  but  all  questions  as  to  his  family  extrac- 
tion were  answered  with  a  laconic  Chi  lo  sa? 
Vallet,  by  making  inquiries  in  other  directions, 
learned  that  Angelo  came  originally  from  Albano. 
He  took  a  trip  to  that  place,  and  after  the  lapse 
of  a  few  days  wrote  a  friend  in  Paris:  "Found! 
Found!    The  surmise  regarding  my  Angelo  is 

390 


LISZT  PUPILS  AND  LISZTIANA 

correct.  This  boathand  is  without  any  doubt 
a  son  of  Countess  d'Agoult,  whose  relations  with 
Franz  Liszt  are  known  throughout  the  world,  and 
was  born  here  in  the  year  1834.  I  found  a  pic- 
ture of  the  countess  in  the  home  of  a  sister-in- 
law  of  a  lately  deceased  peasant  woman,  Giocati- 
Buonaventi.  This  latter  was  the  nurse  and  later 
the  woman  who  had  the  motherly  care  of  my 
Angelo.  .  .  ." 

It  happened  that  at  the  same  time,  as  if  to 
corroborate  Vallet's  statement,  the  Review  de 
Paris  published  an  interesting  correspondence 
between  Georges  Sand  and  Countess  d'Agoult. 
The  latter  writes  from  Albano  under  date  of 
June  9,  T.839:  "It  was  our  intention  to  present 
our  respects  to  the  Sultan  this  summer,  but  our 
trip  to  Constantinople  came  to  naught.  A  little 
fellow  that  I  had  the  caprice  to  bring  here  into 
the  world  prevented  the  carrying  out  of  the  plan. 
The  boy  promises  to  be  a  beauty.  One  of  the 
handsomest  women  of  Palestrina  furnishes  the 
milk  for  his  nourishment.  It  is  to  be  regretted 
that  Franz  has  again  one  of  his  fits  of  melan- 
choly. [She  speaks  of  Liszt  repeatedly  in  this  let- 
ter, giving  him  the  pet  name  cretin.]  The  thought 
of  being  father  to  three  little  children  seems  to  de- 
press his  mind.  .  ." 

The  three  children  being  accounted  for,  the 
story  of  Vallet  regarding  Angelo  has  no  founda- 
tion in  fact,  and  we  would  not  even  mention  it 
if  it  was  not  m.aking  the  rounds  of  the  Conti- 
nental press. 

391 


FRANZ  LISZT 


LISZT  ON  VIRTUOSITY 

In  these  days  of  virtuosity  let  us  hear  what 
Liszt,  the  master  of  all  virtuosi,  says: 

"What,  then,  makes  the  virtuoso  on  an  instru- 
ment?" asks  the  master,  and  we  gain  on  this 
occasion  the  most  comprehensive  and  the  most 
decisive  information  on  the  point  ourselves.  Is 
he  really  a  mere  spiritless  machine?  Do  his 
hands  only  attend  to  the  oflSce  of  a  double  winch 
on  a  street  organ?  Has  he  to  dispense  with  his 
brain  and  with  his  feelings  in  his  mechanical  exe- 
cution of  the  prescribed  performance?  Has  he 
to  supply  the  ear  only  with  a  photograph  of  the 
object  before  him?  Such  representations  bring 
him  to  the  somewhat  proud  remark:  "We  know 
too  well  how  many  amongst  those  who  enjoy 
great  praise,  unable  to  translate  even  to  the  let- 
ter the  original  that  is  on  the  desk  before  them, 
degrade  its  sense,  carrying  on  the  art  as  a  trade, 
and  not  understanding  even  the  trade  itself.  How- 
ever victorious  a  counterfeit  may  be,  it  does  not 
destroy  the  power  of  the  real  authors  and  poet 
virtuosi;  they  are  for  those  who  are  'called'  to 
an  extent  of  which  a  degraded  public,  under  an 
illegitimate  and  ignorant  'dominion,'  has  no 
idea.  You  hear  the  rolling  of  the  thunder,  the 
roaring  of  the  lion,  the  far-spreading  sound  of 
man's  strength.  For  the  words  virtuosity  and 
virtus  are  derived  from  the  Latin  'vir';  the  exe- 
cution of  both  is  an  act  of  manly  power,"  says 

392 


LISZT   PUPILS  AND  LISZTIANA 

he,  and  characterises  now  his  'artist'  as  follows: 
"The  virtuoso  is  not  a  mason,  who,  with  the 
chisel  in  his  hand,  faithfully  and  conscientiously 
cuts  his  stone  after  the  design  of  the  architect. 
He  is  not  a  passive  tool  that  reproduces  feeling 
and  thought  without  adding  himself.  He  is  not 
the  more  or  less  experienced  reader  of  works  that 
have  no  margin  for  his  notes,  and  which  make 
no  paragraph  necessary  between  the  lines. 
These  spiritedly  written  musical  works  are  in 
reality  for  the  virtuoso  only  the  tragic  and  touch- 
ing putting-in-scene  of  feelings;  he  is  called  upon 
to  let  these  speak,  weep,  sing,  sigh  —  to  render 
these  to  his  own  consciousness.  He  creates  in 
this  way  like  the  composer  himself,  for  he  must 
embrace  in  himself  those  passions  which  he,  in 
their  complete  brilliancy,  has  to  bring  to  light. 
He  breathes  life  into  the  lethargic  body,  infuses 
it  with  fire,  and  enlivens  it  with  the  pulse  of 
gracefulness  and  charm.  He  changes  the  clayey 
form  into  a  living  being,  penetrating  it  with  the 
spark  which  Prometheus  snatched  from  the  flash 
of  Jupiter.  He  must  make  this  form  wander  in 
transparent  ether;  he  must  arm  it  with  a  thou- 
sand winged  arms;  he  must  unfold  scent  and 
blossom  and  breathe  into  it  the  breath  of  life. 
Of  all  artists  the  virtuoso  reveals  perhaps  most 
immediately  the  overpowering  forces  of  the  god 
who,  in  glowing  embraces  of  the  proud  muse,  al- 
lures every  hidden  secret." 


393 


FRANZ  LISZT 
LISZT'S  FAVOURITE  PIANO 

LETTER  FROM  DR.   FRANZ   LISZT 

"Weimar,  November,  1883. 
"Mr.  Steinway: 

"  Most  Esteemed  Sir:  Again  I  owe  you  many 
and  special  thanks.  The  new  Steinway  Grand  is 
a  glorious  masterpiece  in  power,  sonority,  singing 
quality,  and  perfect  harmonic  effects,  affording 
delight  even  to  my  old  piano-weary  fingers.  Ever 
continuing  success  remains  a  beautiful  attribute 
of  the  world-renowned  firm  of  Steinway  &  Sons. 
In  your  letter,  highly  esteemed  sir,  you  mention 
some  new  features  in  the  Grand  Piano,  viz.,  the 
vibrating  body  being  bent  into  form  out  of  one 
continuous  piece,  and  that  portion  of  the  strings 
heretofore  lying  dormant  being  now  a  part  of 
and  thus  incorporated  as  partial  tones  into  the 
foundation  tones.  Their  utility  is  emphatically 
guaranteed  by  the  name  of  the  inventor.  Owing 
to  my  ignorance  of  the  mechanism  of  piano  con- 
struction I  can  but  praise  the  magnificent  result 
in  the  'volume  and  quality  of  sound.'  In  re- 
lation to  the  use  of  your  welcome  tone-sustain- 
ing pedal  I  inclose  two  examples:  Danse  des 
Sylphes,  by  Berlioz,  and  No.  3  of  my  Consola- 
tions. I  have  to-day  noted  down  only  the  intro- 
ductory bars  of  both  pieces,  with  this  proviso, 
that,  if  you  desire  it,  I  shall  gladly  complete  the 
whole  transcription,  with  exact  adaptation  of 
your  tone-sustaining  pedal. 

"  Very  respectfully  and  gratefully, 

"F.  Liszt." 

394 


LISZT  PUPILS  AND   LISZTIANA 

LISZT  AS  TEACHER 

"While  Liszt  has  been  immensely  written 
about  as  pianist  and  composer,  sufficient  stress 
has  not  been  laid  upon  what  the  world  owes  him 
as  a  teacher  of  pianoforte  playing,"  writes  Amy 
Fay.  "During  his  life-time  Liszt  despised  the 
name  of  '  piano- teacher,'  and  never  suffered  him- 
self to  be  regarded  as  such,  *  I  am  no  Professeur 
du  Piano,'  he  scornfully  remarked  one  day  in 
the  class  at  Weimar,  and  if  any  one  approached 
him  as  a  'teacher'  he  instantly  put  the  unfor- 
tunate offender  outside  of  his  door. 

"  I  was  once  a  witness  of  his  haughty  treatment 
of  a  Leipsic  pupil  of  the  fair  sex,  who  came  to 
him  one  day  and  asked  him  *  to  give  her  a  few  les- 
sons.' He  instantly  drew  himself  up  and  re- 
plied in  the  most  cutting  tone: 

"  *I  do  not  give  lessons  on  the  piano;  and,'  he 
added  with  a  bow,  in  which  grace  and  sarcasm 
were  combined,  'you  really  don't  need  me  as  a 
teacher.' 

"  There  was  a  dead  silence  for  a  minute,  and 
then  the  poor  girl,  not  knowing  what  to  do  or  say, 
backed  herself  out  of  the  room.  Liszt,  turning  to 
the  class,  said: 

"  'That  is  the  way  people  fly  in  my  face,  by 
dozens!  They  seem  to  think  I  am  there  only  to 
give  them  lessons  on  the  piano.  I  have  to  get 
rid  of  them,  for  I  am  no  Professor  of  the  Piano. 
This  girl  did  not  play  badly,  either,'  concluded  he, 
half  ashamed  of  himself  for  his  treatment  of  her. 

395 


FRANZ  LISZT 

"  For  my  part,  I  was  awfully  sorry  for  the  girl, 
and  I  was  tempted  to  run  after  her  and  bring  her 
back,  and  intercede  with  Liszt  to  take  her;  but 
I  was  a  new-comer  myself,  and  did  not  quite  dare 
to  brave  the  lion  in  his  den.  Later,  I  would  have 
done  it,  for  the  girl  was  really  very  talented,  and 
it  was  a  mere  want  of  tact  on  her  part  in  her  man- 
ner of  approaching  Liszt  which  precipitated  her 
defeat.  She  brought  him  Chopin's  F  minor  con- 
certo, and  played  the  middle  movement  of  it, 
Liszt  standing  up  and  thundering  out  the  orches- 
tral accompaniment,  tremolo,  in  the  bass  of  the 
piano.  I  wondered  it  did  not  put  the  girl  out, 
but  she  persisted  bravely  to  the  end,  and  did 
not  break  down,  as  I  expected  she  would. 

"She  came  at  an  inopportune  moment,  for 
there  were  only  five  of  us  in  the  room,  and  we 
were  having  a  most  entertaining  time  with  Liszt, 
that  lovely  June  afternoon,  and  he  did  not  feel 
disposed  to  be  interrupted  by  a  stranger.  In 
spite  of  himself,  he  could  not  help  doing  justice 
to  her  talent,  saying:  'She  did  not  play  at  all 
badly.'  This,  however,  the  poor  girl  never  knew. 
She  probably  wept  briny  tears  of  disappoint- 
ment when  she  returned  to  her  hotel. 

"While  Liszt  resented  being  called  a  'piano- 
teacher,'  he  nevertheless  was  one,  in  the  higher 
sense  of  the  term.  It  was  the  diflFerence  between 
the  scientific  college  professor  of  genius  and  the 
ordinary  school-teacher  which  distinguished  him 
from  the  rank  and  file  of  musical  instructors. 

"  Nobody  could  be  more  appreciative  of  talent 

396 


LISZT  PUPILS  AND  LISZTIANA 

than  Liszt  was — even  of  talent  which  was  not  of 
the  first  order — and  I  was  often  amazed  to  see  the 
trouble  he  would  give  himself  with  some  indus- 
trious young  girl  who  had  worked  hard  over 
big  compositions  like  Schumann's  Carnival,  or 
Chopin's  sonatas.  At  one  of  the  musical  gath- 
erings at  the  Frauleins'  Stahr  (music-teachers  in 
Weimar,  to  whose  simple  home  Liszt  liked  to 
come)  I  have  heard  him  accompany  on  a  second 
piano  Chopin's  E  minor  concerto,  which  was 
technically  well  played,  by  a  girl  of  nineteen  from 
the  Stuttgart  Conservatory. 

"It  was  a  contrast  to  see  this  young  girl,  with 
her  rosy  cheeks,  big  brown  eyes,  and  healthy, 
everyday  sort  of  talent,  at  one  piano,  and  Liszt, 
the  colossal  artist,  at  the  other. 

"  He  was  then  sixty-three  years  old,  but  the  fire 
of  youth  burned  in  him  still.  Like  his  successor, 
Paderewski,  Liszt  sat  erect,  and  never  bent  his 
proud  head  over  the  'stupid  keys,'  as  he  called 
them,  even  deprecating  his  pupils'  doing  so.  He 
was  very  picturesque,  with  his  lofty  and  ideal 
forehead  thrown  back,  and  his  magnificent  iron- 
gray  hair  falling  in  thick  masses  upon  his  neck. 
The  most  divine  expression  came  over  his  face 
when  he  began  to  play  the  opening  measures  of 
the  accompaniment,  and  I  shall  never  forget  the 
concentration  and  intensity  he  put  into  them  if 
I  live  to  be  a  hundred!  The  nobility  and  abso- 
lute 'selflessness'  of  Liszt's  playing  had  to  be 
heard  to  be  understood.  There  was  something 
about  his  tone  that  made  you  weep,  it  was  so 
apajt  from  earth  and  so  ethereal!" 

397 


FRANZ  LISZT 

VON  BULOW  CRITICISES 

"I  look  forward  eagerly,"  Biilow  wrote  to  a 
friend,  "  to  your  Chopin,  that  immortal  romanti- 
cist par  excellence,  whose  mazurkas  alone  are  a 
monument  more  enduring  than  metal.  Never 
will  this  great,  deep,  sincere,  and  at  the  same  time 
tender  and  passionate  poet  become  antiquated. 
On  the  contrary,  as  musical  culture  increases, 
he  will  appear  in  a  much  brighter  light  than 
to-day,  when  only  the  popular  Chopin  is  in 
vogue,  whereas  the  more  aristocratic,  manly 
Chopin,  the  poet  of  the  last  two  scherzi,  the 
last  two  ballads,  the  barcarole,  the  polonaise- 
fantaisie,  the  nocturnes,  Op.  9,  No.  3;  Op.  48; 
Op.  55,  No.  2,  etc.,  still  awaits  the  interpreters 
who  have  entered  into  his  spirit  and  among  whom, 
if  God  grants  me  life,  I  should  like  to  have  the 
pride  of  counting  myself. 

"  You  know  from  my  introduction  to  the  etudes 
how  highly  I  esteem  Chopin.  In  his  pieces  we 
find  Lenau,  Byron,  Musset,  Lamartine,  and  at 
the  same  time  all  sorts  of  heathen  Apollo  priests. 
You  shall  learn  through  me  to  love  him  dearly. 

"We  must  grant  Chopin  the  great  distinction 
of  having  in  his  works  fixed  the  boundaries  be- 
tween piano  and  orchestral  music,  which  other 
romanticists,  notably  Robert  Schumann,  con- 
fused, to  the  detriment  of  both. 

"  There  are  two  Chopins  —  one  an  aristocrat, 
the  other  democratic." 

Concerning  the  mazurka,  Op.  50,  No.  i,  he 

398 


LISZT  PUPILS  AND  LISZTIANA 

said :  "  In  this  mazurka  there  is  dancing,  singing, 
gesticulating. 

"  Chopin's  pupils  issued  in  Paris  an  edition  of 
his  works.  Chopin's  pupils  are,  however,  as 
unreliable  as  the  girls  who  pose  as  Liszt's  pupils. 
Use  the  Klindworth  edition. 

"Liszt's  ballads  and  polonaises  have  proved 
most  strikingly  that  it  was  possible  after  Chopin 
to  write  ballads  and  polonaises.  In  the  polo- 
naises in  particular  Liszt  opened  many  new  points 
of  view  for  the  widening  and  spiritualising  of  that 
form,  quite  apart  from  the  individual  peculiar- 
ities of  his  productions,  which  put  in  place  of  the 
national  Polish  colour  an  entirely  new  element, 
thus  making  possible  the  filling  out  of  this  form 
with  new  contents." 

In  one  of  his  essays  Biilow  indignantly  attacks 
the  current  notion  that  Liszt's  pieces  are  all  un- 
playable except  by  concert  pianists:  "Some  day 
I  shall  make  a  list  of  all  of  Liszt's  pieces  for  piano 
which  most  amateurs  will  find  much  easier  to  mas- 
ter and  digest  than  the  chaff  of  Thalberg  or  the 
wheat  of  Henselt  or  Chopin.  But  it  seems  that 
the  name  of  Liszt  as  composer  for  the  piano  has 
become  associated  inseparably  with  the  words  *  in- 
executable,'  and  making '  colossal  demands.'  It  is 
a  harmless  prejudice  of  the  ignorant,  like  many 
others,  but  for  all  that  none  the  less  objectionable. 

"Liszt  does  not  represent  virtuosity  as  dis- 
tinguished from  music  —  very  far  from  it. 

"The  Liszt  ballade  in  B  minor  is  equal  in  po- 
etic content  to  Chopin's  ballades." 

399 


FRANZ  LISZT 

Concerning  Liszt's  Irrlichter  and  Gnomenrei- 
gen,  he  said:  "I  wish  the  inspired  master  had 
written  more  pieces  like  these,  which  are  as  per- 
fect as  any  song  without  words  by  Mendelssohn." 

WEINGARTNER  AND  LISZT 

Weingartner's  reminiscences  of  Liszt  throw 
many  interesting  lights  on  the  personality  of  that 
great  composer  and  greatest  of  teachers.  The 
gathering  of  famous  artists  at  his  house  are  well 
described,  and  his  own  mannerisms  excellently 
portrayed.  His  playing  was  always  marked  by 
the  ripest  perfection  of  touch.  He  did  not  in- 
cline to  the  impetuous  power  of  his  youthful  days, 
but  sat  almost  without  motion  before  the  key- 
board. His  hands  glided  quietly  over  the  keys, 
and  produced  the  warm,  magnetic  stream  of  tone 
almost  without  effort. 

His  criticism  of  others  was  short,  but  always  to 
the  point.  His  praise  would  be  given  heartily, 
and  without  reserve,  while  blame  was  always 
concealed  in  some  kindly  circumlocution.  Once, 
when  a  pretty  young  lady  played  a  Chopin  bal- 
lade in  execrable  fashion,  he  could  not  contain 
ejaculations  of  disgust  as  he  walked  excitedly 
about  the  room.  At  the  end,  however,  he  went 
to  her  kindly,  laid  his  hand  gently  on  her  hair, 
kissed  her  forehead,  and  murmured,  "Marry 
soon,  dear  child  —  adieu." 

Another  young  lady  once  turned  the  tables  on 
the  composer.  It  was  the  famous  Ingeborg  von 
400 


LISZT  PUPILS  AND  LISZTIANA 

Bronsart,  who  came  to  him  when  eighteen  years 
old,  in  the  full  bloom  of  her  fair  Northern  beauty. 
Liszt  asked  her  to  play,  inwardly  fearing  that 
this  was  to  be  one  more  of  the  petted  incompe- 
tents. But  when  she  played  a  Bach  fugue  for 
him,  with  the  utmost  brilliancy,  he  could  not  con- 
tain his  admiration.  "Wonderful,"  he  cried, 
"  but  you  certainly  didn't  look  like  it."  "  I  should 
hope  I  didn't  look  like  a  Bach  fugue,"  was  the 
swift  retort,  and  the  two  became  lifelong  friends. 

AS  ORGAN  COMPOSER 

Liszt's  importance  in  this  field  is  not  over- 
looked. 

"In  Germany,  the  land  of  seriousness,  organ 
music  had  acquired  a  character  so  heavy  and  so 
uniformly  contrapuntal  that,  by  the  middle  of 
last  century,  almost  any  decently  trained  Capell- 
meister  could  produce  a  sonata  dull  enough  to 
be  considered  first-rate.  There  were,  doubtless, 
many  protests  in  the  shape  of  unorthodox  works 
which  left  no  mark;  but  two  great  influences, 
which  are  the  earliest  we  need  notice,  came  in  the 
shape  of  Liszt's  Fantasia  on  the  name  of  Bach 
and  Julius  Reubke's  Sonata  on  the  Ninety-fourth 
Psalm.  Without  minute  analysis  we  may  say 
that  the  former,  though  not  an  entirely  great 
work,  was  at  all  events  something  entirely  new. 
It  showed  the  possibility  of  freedom  of  form  with- 
out shapelessness,  of  fairly  good  counterpoint 
without  dulness,  of  the  adaptation  of  piano  tech- 
401 


FRANZ  LISZT 

nic  to  the  organ  in  a  way  never  before  attempted; 
and  the  whole  work,  brilliant  and  effective, 
never  outraged  in  the  smallest  degree  the  natural 
dignity  of  the  instrument." 

LISZT'S  TECHNIC 

Rudolf  Breithaupt  thus  wrote  of  the  technical 
elements  in  Liszt's  playing  in  Die  Musik: 

"  What  we  hear  of  Liszt's  technic  in  his  best 
years,  from  1825  to  1850,  resembles  a  fairy  tale. 
As  artists,  Liszt  and  Paganini  have  almost  be- 
come legendary  personages.  In  analysing  Liszt's 
command  of  the  piano  we  find  that  it  consists 
first  and  foremost  in  the  revelation  of  a  mighty 
personality  rather  than  in  the  achievement  of 
unheard  of  technical  feats.  Though  his  admirers 
will  not  believe  it,  technic  has  advanced  since 
his  day.  Tausig  excelled  him  in  exactness  and 
brilliancy;  Von  Biilow  was  a  greater  master  of 
interpretation:  Rubinstein  went  beyond  him  in 
power  and  in  richness  of  tone-colour,  through 
his  consummate  use  of  the  pedal.  Even  con- 
temporary artists,  e.g.,  Carreno,  d' Albert,  Busoni, 
and  in  part,  Godowsky,  are  technically  equal  to 
Liszt  in  his  best  days,  and  in  certain  details,  ow- 
ing to  the  improved  mechanism  of  the  piano, 
even  his  superior. 

"  It  is  time  to  do  away  with  the  fetich  of  Liszt's 

technic.     It  was  mighty  as  an  expression  of  his 

potent  personality,  mighty  in  its  domination  of  all 

instrumental  forms,  mighty  in  its  full  command 

402 


LISZT   PUPILS   AND   LISZTIANA 

of  all  registers  and  positions.  But  I  believe  that 
if  the  Liszt  of  former  days  —  not  the  old  man 
whose  fingers  did  not  always  obey  his  will,  but 
the  young,  vigorous  Titan  of  the  early  nineteenth 
century  —  were  to  play  for  us  now,  we  should  be 
as  little  edified  as  we  should  probably  be  by  the 
singing  of  Jenny  Lind  or  by  the  playing  of  Paga- 
nini.  Exaggeration  finds  no  more  fruitful  field 
than  the  chronicling  of  the  feats  of  noted  artists. 

"  We  hear,  for  instance,  much  of  Liszt's  hand, 
of  its  vampire-like  clutch,  of  its  uncanny,  spidery 
power  of  extension  —  as  a  child  I  firmly  believed 
that  he  could  reach  two  octaves  without  diffi- 
culty. These  stories  are  all  fables.  His  fingers 
were  long  and  regular,  the  thumb  abnormally 
long;  a  more  than  usual  flexibility  of  muscles 
and  sinews  gave  him  the  power  of  spanning  a 
twelfth.  Klindworth  tells  us  that  he  did  some 
things  with  his  left  thumb  that  one  was  led  to  be- 
lieve it  twice  the  length  of  an  ordinary  thumb. 

"  What  chiefly  distinguished  Liszt's  technic  was 
the  absolute  freedom  of  his  arms.  The  secret 
lay  in  the  unconstrained  swinging  movement  of 
the  arm  from  the  raised  shoulder,  the  bringing 
out  of  the  tone  through  the  impact  of  the  full 
elastic  mass  on  the  keys,  a  thorough  command 
and  use  of  the  freely  rolling  forearm.  He  had  the 
gift  for  which  all  strove,  the  rhythmic  dance  of 
the  members  concerned  —  the  springing  arm,  the 
springing  hand,  the  springing  finger.  He  played 
by  weight  —  by  a  swinging  and  a  hurling  of  weight 
from  a  loosened  shoulder  that  had  nothing  in  com- 

403 


FRANZ  LISZT 

mon  with  what  is  known  as  finger  manipulation. 
It  was  by  a  direct  transfer  of  strength  from  back 
and  shoulders  to  fingers,  which  explains  the  high 
position  of  hands  and  fingers. 

"  At  the  time  of  his  most  brilliant  period  as 
virtuoso  he  paid  no  attention  to  technic  and  its 
means;  his  temperament  was  the  reverse  of  ana- 
lytical —  what  he  wished  to  do  he  did  without 
concerning  himself  as  to  the  how  or  why.  Later 
in  life  he  did  attempt  to  give  some  practical  sug- 
gestions in  technic,  but  these  were  of  but  doubt- 
ful worth.  A  genius  is  not  always  to  be  trusted 
when  it  comes  to  theoretical  explanation  of  what 
he  does  more  by  instinct  than  by  calculation. 

"  His  power  over  an  audience  was  such  that 
he  had  only  to  place  his  hands  on  the  keyboard 
to  awaken  storms  of  applause.  Even  his  pauses 
had  life  and  movement,  for  his  hands  spoke  in 
animated  gesture,  while  his  Jupiter-like  head, 
with  its  mane  of  flowing  hair,  exercised  an  almost 
hypnotic  efifect  on  his  entranced  listeners. 

"  From  a  professional  stand-point  his  execution 
was  not  always  flawless.  His  great  rival,  Thal- 
berg,  had  greater  equality  of  touch  in  scales  and 
runs;  in  what  was  then  known  as  the  jeu  perle 
(literally,  pearly  playing)  his  art  was  also  finer. 
Liszt  frequently  struck  false  notes  —  but  ears 
were  closed  to  such  faults;  his  hearers  appeared 
not  to  notice  them.  These  spots  on  the  sun  are 
mentioned  only  to  put  an  end  once  for  all  to  the 
foolish  stories  that  are  still  current  about  Liszt's 
wonderful  technic.  This  greatest  of  all  repro- 
404 


Liszt's  Hand 


LISZT   PUPILS  AND   LISZTIANA 

ductive  artists  was  but  a  man,  and  often  erred, 
though  in  a  large  and  characteristic  fashion. 

"  Liszt's  technic  is  the  typical  technic  of  the 
modem  grand  piano  (Hammerklavier).  He  knew 
well  the  nature  of  the  instrument,  its  old-fash- 
ioned single-tone  effects  on  the  one  hand,  its 
full  harmonic  power  and  polyphonic  capabilities 
on  the  other.  While  to  his  predecessors  it  was 
simply  a  medium  for  musical  purposes,  under  his 
hands  it  was  a  means  of  expression  for  himself, 
a  revelation  of  his  ardent  temperament.  In  com- 
parison with  the  contracted  five-finger  positions 
of  the  classical  technic,  its  broken  chords  and 
arpeggios,  Liszt's  technic  had  the  advantage  of 
a  fuller,  freer  flow,  of  greater  fulness  of  tone  and 
increased  brilliancy.  Chopin  has  discovered  more 
original  forms;  his  style  of  writing  is  far  more 
delicate  and  graceful;  his  individual  note  is  cer- 
tainly more  musical,  but  his  technic  is  special 
in  its  character;  it  lacks  the  broad  sweep  that 
gives  Liszt's  technic  its  peculiar  freedom  and 
adaptability  to  the  instrument. 

"  Take  Schumann  and  Brahms  also,  and  com- 
pare their  manner  of  writing  for  the  piano  with 
Liszt's.  Both  have  written  much  that  is  noble 
and  beautiful  considered  as  music,  but  so  clumsily 
put  on  the  instrument  that  it  is  unduly  difficult 
for  the  player.  With  Liszt,  however,  no  matter 
what  the  difficulty  of  the  means  may  be,  they  are 
always  precisely  adapted  to  the  end  in  view,  and 
everything  he  writes  sounds  well.  It  is  no  merely 
theoretical  combination,  but  meant  to  be  played 

405 


FRANZ  LISZT 

on  the  piano,  and  is  in  strict  accordance  with 
the  nature  of  the  instrument.  The  player  finds 
nothing  laboriously  put  together  and  requiring 
study  for  its  disentanglement.  Liszt  considers 
the  structure  of  the  hand,  and  assigns  it  tasks 
suited  to  its  capabilities. 

"  Among  the  distinctively  original  features  of 
Liszt's  technic  are  the  bold  outline,  the  large 
form,  the  imitative  effects  of  organ  and  clavier, 
the  orchestral  timbre  it  imparts  to  the  piano.  We 
thank  him  also  for  the  use  of  the  thumb  in  the 
declamation  of  pathetic  cantilena,  for  a  breadth 
of  melodic  characterisation  which  resembles  that 
of  the  horn  and  violoncello,  for  the  imitation  of 
brass  instruments,  for  the  great  advance  in  all 
sorts  of  tremolos,  trills  and  vibratos,  which  serve 
to  give  colour  and  intensity  to  moments  of  climax. 
His  finger  passages  are  not  merely  empty  runs, 
but  are  like  high  lights  in  a  picture;  his  cadenzas 
fairly  sparkle  like  comet  trains  and  are  never 
introduced  for  display  alone.  They  are  prepara- 
tory, transitional  or  conclusive  in  character;  they 
point  contrasts,  they  heighten  dramatic  climaxes. 
His  scales  and  arpeggios  have  nothing  in  common 
with  the  stiff  monotony  of  the  Czemy  school  of 
playing;  they  express  feeling,  they  give  emotional 
variety,  they  embellish  a  melody  with  ineffable 
grace.  He  often  supplies  them  with  thirds  and 
sixths,  which  fill  out  their  meagre  outlines  and 
furnish  support  to  hands  and  fingers. 

"  In  his  octave  technic  Liszt  has  embodied  all 
the  elementary  power  and  wildness  of  his  nature. 
406 


LISZT  PUPILS  AND   LISZTIANA 

His  octaves  rage  in  chromatic  and  diatonic  scales, 
in  broken  chords  and  arpeggios,  up  and  down, 
hither  and  thither,  like  zigzag  flashes  of  lightning. 
Here  he  is  seen  at  his  boldest,  e.  g.,  in  his  Orage, 
Totentanz,  Mazeppa,  Don  Juan  fantasia,  VI 
Rhapsody,  etc.  In  the  trill,  too,  he  has  given  us 
such  novel  forms  as  the  simple  trill  with  single 
fingers  of  each  hand,  the  trill  in  double  thirds 
in  both  hands,  the  octave  trill  —  all  serving  to 
intensify  the  introduction  or  close  of  the  salient 
divisions  of  a  composition. 

"  From  Liszt  dates  the  placing  of  a  melody  in 
the  fullest  and  most  ringing  register  of  the  piano 
—  that  corresponding  to  the  tenor  or  baritone 
compass  of  voice;  also  the  division  of  the  accom- 
paniment between  the  two  hands  and  the  exten- 
sion of  hand-crossing  technic.  To  him  we  owe 
exactness  in  the  fixing  of  tempo,  the  careful  des- 
ignation of  signs  for  dynamics  and  expression, 
the  use  of  three  staves  instead  of  two  for  the  sake 
of  greater  clearness  of  notation,  as  well  as  the 
modern  installation  of  the  pedal. 

"  In  short,  Liszt  is  not  only  the  creator  of  the 
art  of  piano  playing  as  we  have  it  to-day,  but 
his  is  the  strongest  musical  influence  in  modern 
musical  culture.  But  granting  this,  those  think- 
ers who  declare  this  influence  not  unmixed  with 
harm  are  not  altogether  wrong.  It  is  not  the 
fault  of  genius,  however,  that  undesirable  conse- 
quences follow  in  its  wake.  It  is  also  my  opin- 
ion that  it  will  do  no  harm  to  retrace  our  steps 
and  revive  the  more  simple  times  when  there  was 
less  piano  playing  and  more  music." 

407 


FRANZ  LISZT 


BUSONI 


Busoni  is  preparing  a  complete  edition  of 
Liszt's  compositions,  to  be  published  by  Breit- 
kopf  &  Hartel,  Concerning  the  studies,  which 
are  to  appear  in  three  volumes,  he  says: 

"  These  etudes,  a  work  which  occupied  Franz 
Liszt  from  childhood  on  up  to  manhood,  we  be- 
lieve should  be  put  at  the  head  of  his  piano  com- 
positions. There  are  three  reasons  for  this:  the 
first  is  the  fact  that  the  etudes  were  the  first  of 
his  works  to  be  published;  the  second  is  that 
in  Liszt's  own  catalogue  of  his  works  (Themat. 
Verz.  Br.  H.  1855),  he  puts  the  etudes  at  the  very 
beginning;  and  the  third  and  most  patent  is  that 
these  works  in  their  entirety  reflect  as  do  no 
others  Liszt's  pianistic  personality  in  the  bud, 
shoot,  and  flower. 

"  These  fifty-eight  piano  pieces  alone  would 
serve  to  place  Liszt  in  the  ranks  of  the  great- 
est piano  composers  since  Beethoven  —  Chopin, 
Schumann,  Alkan,  and  Brahms;  but  proof  of  his 
superiority  over  these  is  found  in  his  complete 
works,  of  which  the  etudes  are  only  a  small  part. 

"  They  afford  a  picture  of  him  in  manifold  lights 
and  poses,  giving  us  an  opportunity  to  know  and 
observe  him  in  the  different  phases  of  his  char- 
acter: the  diabolic  as  well  as  the  religious  — 
those  who  acknowledge  God  do  not  make  light 
of  the  devil  —  the  refined  and  the  animated;  now 
as  an  illustrative  interpreter  of  every  style  and 
again  as  a  marvellous  transformation  artist  who 
408 


LISZT  PUPILS  AND   LISZTIANA 

can  with  convincing  mimicry  don  the  costume 
of  any  country.  This  collection  consists  of  a 
work  for  piano  which  contains  within  its  circum- 
ference every  phase,  nation,  and  epoch  of  musi- 
cal expression  from  Palestrina  to  Parsifal,  where- 
by Liszt  shows  himself  as  a  creator  of  twofold 
character  —  both  subjective  and  objective." 

LISZT  AS  A  PIANOFORTE  WRITER 

"  Nothing  is  easier  than  to  estimate  Liszt  the 
pianist,  nothing  more  difficult  than  to  estimate 
Liszt  the  composer.  As  to  Liszt  the  pianist,  old 
and  young,  conservatives  and  progressives,  not 
excepting  the  keyboard  specialists,  are  perfectly 
agreed  that  he  was  unique,  unsurpassed,  and  un- 
surpassable," says  Professor  Niecks.  "As  to  Liszt 
the  composer,  on  the  other  hand,  opinions  differ 
widely  and  multifariously  —  from  the  attribution 
of  superlative  genius  to  the  denial  of  the  least 
talent.  This  diversity  arises  from  partisanship, 
individuality  of  taste,  and  the  various  concep- 
tions formed  of  the  nature  of  creative  power. 
Those,  however,  who  call  Liszt  a  composer  with- 
out talent  confess  themselves  either  ignorant  of 
his  achievements,  or  incapable  of  distinguishing 
good  from  bad  and  of  duly  apportioning  praise 
and  blame.  Those,  on  the  other  hand,  who  call 
Liszt  a  creative  genius  should  not  omit  to  observe 
and  state  that  his  genius  was  qualitatively  un- 
like the  genius  of  Haydn,  Mozart,  Beethoven, 
Mendelssohn,  and  Schumann.  With  him  the 
409 


FRANZ  LISZT 

creative  impulse  was,  in  the  main,  and,  as  a 
rule,  an  intellectual  impulse.  With  the  great 
masters  mentioned,  the  impulse  was  of  a  general 
origin,  all  the  faculties  co-operating.  While  with 
them  the  composition  was  always  spontaneous, 
being,  however  great  the  travail,  a  birth,  not  a 
making;  with  Liszt  it  was  often  reflective,  the 
solution  of  a  problem,  an  experiment,  a  caprice, 
a  defiance  of  conventional  respectability,  or  a 
device  for  the  dumfounding  and  electrification 
of  the  gaping  multitude.  In  short,  Liszt  was  to 
a  larger  extent  inventive  than  creative.  The 
foregoing  remarks  do  not  pretend  to  be  more 
than  a  suggestive  attempt  at  explaining  the  in- 
explicable differences  of  creative  power.  That 
Liszt  could  be  spontaneous  and  in  the  best  sense 
creative,  he  has  proved  by  whole  compositions, 
and  more  frequently  by  parts  of  compositions. 
That  has  to  be  noted;  as  well  as  that  his  love  of 
experimenting  and  scorn  for  the  familiar,  not  to 
mention  the  commonplace,  led  him  often  to  turn 
his  back  on  the  beautiful  and  to  embrace  the 
ugly. 

"As  a  composer  of  pianoforte  music,  Liszt's 
merits  are  more  generally  acknowledged  than  as 
a  composer  of  any  other  kind.  Here  indeed  his 
position  is  a  commanding  one.  We  should  be 
obliged  to  regard  him  with  respect,  admiration,  and 
gratitude,  even  if  his  compositions  were  aestheti- 
cally altogether  a  failure.  For  they  incorporate 
an  original  pianoforte  style,  a  style  that  won  new 
resources  from  the  instrument,  and  opened  new 
410 


LISZT   PUPILS   AND   LISZTIANA 

possibilities  to  the  composer  for  it,  and  the  player 
on  it.  The  French  Revolution  of  1830  aroused 
Liszt  from  a  state  of  lethargy.  A  year  after 
this  political  revolution,  there  occurred  an  event 
that  brought  about  in  him  an  artistic  revolu- 
tion. This  event  was  the  appearance  of  Paga- 
nini  in  Paris.  The  wonderful  performances  of  the 
unique  violin  virtuoso  revealed  to  him  new  ideas. 
He  now  began  to  form  that  pianoforte  style  which 
combined,  as  it  were,  the  excellences  of  all  the 
other  instruments,  individually  and  collectively. 
Liszt  himself  called  the  process  "  the  orchestra- 
tion of  the  pianoforte."  But  before  the  trans- 
formation could  be  consummated,  other  influ- 
ences had  to  be  brought  to  bear  on  the  architect. 
The  influence  of  Chopin,  who  appeared  in  Paris 
soon  after  Paganini,  must  have  been  great,  but 
was  too  subtle  and  partial  to  be  easily  gauged. 
It  is  different  with  Berlioz,  whose  influence  on 
Liszt  was  palpable  and  general,  affecting  every 
branch  of  his  art-practice.  Thalberg  has  at  least 
the  merit  of  having  by  his  enormous  success  in 
1836  stimulated  Liszt  to  put  forth  his  whole 
strength. 

"  The  vast  mass  of  Liszt's  pianoforte  composi- 
tions is  divisible  first  into  two  classes  —  the  en- 
tirely original  compositions,  and  the  composi- 
tions based  to  a  more  or  less  extent  on  foreign 
matter.  The  latter  class  consist  of  transcriptions 
of  songs  (Schubert,  Beethoven,  Mendelssohn, 
Franz,  etc.),  symphonies  and  overtures  (Berlioz, 
Beethoven,  Rossini,  Wagner,  etc.),  and  operatic 
411 


FRANZ  LISZT 

themes  (from  Rossini  and  Bellini  to  Wagner  and 
Verdi),  and  of  fifteen  Hungarian  rhapsodies; 
the  former  consists  of  studies,  brilliant  virtuosic 
pieces,  musical  poems,  secular  and  sacred,  pic- 
turesque, lyrical,  etc.  (such  as  Annies  de  Peler- 
inage.  Harmonies,  poetiques  et  religieuses.  Con- 
solations, the  legends,  St.  Francois  d' Assise:  La 
Predication  aux  oiseaux,  and  St.  Francois  de 
Paule  marchant  sur  les  flots,  etc.),  and  one 
work  in  sonata  form,  but  not  the  conventional  so- 
nata form.  Although  not  unfrequently  leaving 
something  to  be  desired  in  the  matter  of  discre- 
tion, his  transcriptions  of  songs  are  justly  famous 
masterpieces.  Marvellous  in  the  reproduction 
of  orchestral  effects  are  the  transcriptions  of 
symphonies  and  overtures.  The  operatic  tran- 
scriptions (Illustrations,  Fantasies),  into  which 
the  geistreiclie  Liszt  put  a  great  deal  of  his  own, 
do  not  now  enjoy  the  popularity  they  once  en- 
joyed; the  present  age  has  lost  some  of  its  love 
for  musical  fireworks  and  the  tricking-out  and 
transmogrification  by  an  artist  of  other  artists' 
ideas.  The  Hungarian  Rhapsodies,  on  the  other 
hand,  which  are  still  more  fantasias  on  the  adopted 
matter  than  the  operatic  transcriptions,  continue 
to  be  favourites  of  the  virtuosi  and  the  public. 

"  As  to  the  original  compositions,  they  are  very 
unequal  in  artistic  value.  Many  of  them,  how- 
ever, are  undoubtedly  of  the  greatest  beauty,  and 
stand  whatever  test  may  be  applied  to  them. 
No  one  would  think  of  numbering  with  these  ex- 
quisite perfect  things  the  imposing  sonata.  It 
412 


LISZT   PUPILS    AND    LISZTIANA 

cannot  be  placed  by  the  side  of  the  sonatas  of 
Beethoven,  whose  ideal  and  formative  power 
Liszt  lacked.  Nevertheless  it  is  impossible  for 
the  unprejudiced  not  to  recognise  in  it  a  noble 
effort  of  a  highly-gifted  and  ardently-striving 
mind.  Technically,  instead  of  three  or  four  self- 
contained  separate  movements,  we  have  there  a 
long  uninterrupted  series  of  continuous  move- 
ments, in  which,  however,  we  can  distinguish 
three  complexes  corresponding  to  the  three  move- 
ments of  the  orthodox  sonata.  The  Andante 
Sostenuto  and  Quasi  Adagio  form  the  simpler 
middle  complex.  Although  some  of  the  fea- 
tures of  the  orthodox  sonata  structure  are  dis- 
cernible in  Liszt's  works,  most  of  them  are  ab- 
sent from  it  or  irrecognisably  veiled.  The  most 
novel  and  characteristic  features  are  the  unity 
and  the  evolution  by  metamorphosis  of  the 
thematic  material  —  that  is  to  say,  the  motives 
of  the  first  complex  reappear  in  the  following 
ones,  and  are  metamorphosed  not  only  in  the 
later  but  also  in  the  first.  Nothing  could  char- 
acterise the  inequality  of  Liszt's  compositions 
better  than  the  fact  that  it  is  possible  to  draw  up 
a  programme  of  them  wholly  irreproachable, 
admirable,  and  delightful,  and  equally  possible 
to  draw  up  one  wholly  objectionable,  abhorrent, 
and  distressful.  All  in  all,  Liszt  is  a  most  re- 
markable and  interesting  and,  at  the  same  time, 
an  epoch-making  personality,  one  that  will  re- 
main for  long  yet  a  living  force  in  music,  and  for 
ever  a  striking  figure  in  the  history  of  the  art." 

413 


FRANZ  LISZT 


SMETANA 


Frederick  Smetana,  the  greatest  of  Bohemian 
composers,  founded  in  the  year  1848  the  insti- 
tute which  he  conducted  for  the  teaching  of  the 
piano  in  Prague.  In  this  year  it  was  that  the 
composition  for  piano  named  Morceaux  Car- 
acteristiques,  he  dedicated  to  Liszt  (which  dedi- 
cation Liszt  accepted  with  the  greatest  cordial- 
ity, writing  him  a  most  complimentary  letter), 
was  the  means  of  his  becoming  personally  ac- 
quainted with  Liszt,  whom  he  until  this  time 
only  knew  by  report.  He  obtained  for  the  young 
composer  an  introduction  to  the  publisher  Kist- 
ner,  in  Leipsic,  who  brought  out  his  six  piano 
pieces  called  Stammbuchblaetter. 

RIMSKY-KORSAKOFF 

"  Of  all  the  Slav  composers  Rimsky-Korsakofif 
is  perhaps  the  most  charming,  and  as  a  musician 
the  most  remarkable,"  writes  the  music-critic  of 
the  Mercure  de  France.  "He  has  not  been 
equalled  by  any  of  his  compatriots  in  the  art  of 
handling  timbres,  and  in  this  art  the  Russian 
school  has  been  long  distinguished.  In  this  re- 
spect he  is  descended  directly  from  Liszt,  whose 
orchestra  he  adopted  and  from  whom  he  bor- 
rowed many  an  old  effect.  His  inspiration  is 
sometimes  exquisite;  the  inexhaustible  transfor- 
mation of  his  themes  is  always  most  intelligent 
414 


LISZT    PUPILS   AND    LISZTIANA 

or  interesting.  As  all  the  other  Russians,  he  sins 
in  the  development  of  ideas  through  the  lack  of 
cohesion,  of  sustained  enchainment,  and  especi- 
ally through  the  lack  of  true  polyphony.  The 
influence  of  Berlioz  and  of  Liszt  is  not  less  strik- 
ing in  his  manner  of  composition.  Sadko  comes 
from  Liszt's  Ce  qu'on  entend  sur  la  montagne, 
Antar  and  Scheherazade  at  the  same  time  from 
Harold  and  the  Faust  symphony.  The  Oriental 
monody  seems  to  throw  a  spell  over  Rimsky- 
Korsakoff  which  spreads  over  all  his  works  a  sort 
of  'local  colour,'  underlined  here  by  the  chosen 
subjects.  In  Scheherazade,  it  must  be  said,  the 
benzoin  of  Arabia  sends  forth  here  and  there 
the  sickening  empyreuma  of  the  pastilles  of  the 
harem.  In  the  second  and  the  third  movements 
of  Antar  the  composer  has  approached  nearest 
true  musical  superiority.  The  descriptive,  almost 
dramatic,  intention  is  realised  there  with  an  un- 
usual sureness,  and,  if  the  brand  of  Liszt  remains 
ineffaceable,  the  ease  of  construction,  the  breadth 
and  the  co-ordinated  progressions  of  combina- 
tions mark  a  mastery  and  an  originality  that  are 
rarely  found  among  the  composers  of  the  far 
North,  and  that  no  one  has  ever  possessed  among 
the  'five.' 

"Chopin's  well-known  saying  in  regard  to 
Liszt,  when  he  heard  that  the  latter  was  going 
to  write  a  notice  of  his  concert,  tells  more,"  says 
Professor  Niecks,  "  than  whole  volumes.  These 
are  the  words:  'U  me  donnera  un  petit  royaume 

415 


FRANZ  LISZT 

dans  son  empire,'  which  were  said  to  Ernest 
Legouvd  by  Chopin.  Now  here  is  another  side- 
light on  Chopin  and  his  opinion  of  the  great 
virtuoso.  He  is  referring  to  Liszt's  notice  of 
some  concert,  apparently  at  Cologne.  He  is 
amused  at  the  'fifteen  hundred  men  counted,  at 
the  president  of  the  Phil  [harmonic]  and  his  car- 
riage, etc.,'  and  he  feels  sure  that  Liszt  will 
'  some  day  be  a  deputy,  or  king  of  Abyssinia,  or 
of  the  Congo;  his  melodies  (themes),  however, 
will  rest  alongside  the  two  volumes  of  German 
poetry'  —  two  volumes  which  did  not  seem  des- 
tined, apparently,  to  achieve  immortality." 

HIS  PORTRAITS 

Many  artists  have  immortalised  "that  profile 
of  ivory."  They  are,  Ingres  who  was  a  friend 
of  Liszt,  and  of  whom  he  always  had  a  tender 
recollection;  in  his  best  days  it  was  Kaulbach 
and  Lenbach.  William  Kaulbach's  portrait  is 
celebrated  for  the  grand  look;  the  chivalrous 
and  fine-gentleman  character  of  the  artist  is  ex- 
pressed in  it  in  a  masterly  way.  Not  less  remark- 
able is  a  marble  bust  by  the  famous  Bartolini, 
souvenir  of  the  master's  visit  to  Florence  in  1838. 
The  painter  Leyraud  shows  us  Liszt  at  the  time 
when  he  took  orders.  He  depicts  him  as  a  thin, 
thoughtful  man,  leaning  against  a  piano,  his 
arms  crossed,  and  looking  at  the  world  from  the 
height  of  his  wisdom.  David  d'Angers  has  made 
a  very  fine  medallion  of  him.     "We  have  several 

416 


Last  Picture  of  Liszt,  1886,  Aged  Seventy-five  Years 


LISZT   PUPILS    AND    LISZTIANA 

portraits  by  Kriehuber,  one,  among  others  — 
Liszt  in  a  travelling  cloak  —  drawn  hurriedly  while 
Liszt,  surrounded  by  friends  seeing  him  oflF,  was 
shaking  hands  all  round.  Tilgner  sculptured  a 
bust  of  him  two  years  ago  at  Vienna;  and  Baron 
Joukovsky  painted  his  portrait.  Our  great  Mun- 
kacsy,  who  beautified  the  last  moments  of  the 
master's  life,  painted  him  seated  at  the  piano. 
Boehm,  the  celebrated  Hungarian  sculptor,  has 
just  made  his  bust  in  London.  Then  we  have 
at  Budapest,  at  the  entrance  to  the  opera  house, 
a  splendid  statue,  chiselled  by  our  young  ar- 
tist Strobl.  It  wants  finish,  but  on  the  other 
hand  admirably  renders  Liszt's  features  and  ex- 
pression. And  lastly,  we  have  one  by  Wolkof ,  on 
the  stove  of  a  friend  of  Liszt's,"  adds  Janka  Wohl. 
There  are  so  many  more  that  they  defy  classifi- 
cation. The  Munkkcsy  is  not  attractive,  but 
the  sketch  made  by  Ingres  at  Rome  in  1839  is  a 
very  happy  interpretation  of  the  still  youthful 
virtuoso.  The  Kriehuber  lithograph  is  a  famous 
study  of  perennial  interest.  Then  there  are  the 
portraits  by  the  American  Healey  and  the  Italian 
Stella,  excellent  though  not  master-works.  In 
the  Lenbach  portrait  the  eyes  look  like  incan- 
descent grapes. 


417 


IX 

MODERN  PIANOFORTE  VIRTUOSI 

Artistic  pianoforte  playing  is  no  longer  rare. 
The  once  jealously  guarded  secrets  of  the  mas- 
ters have  become  the  property  of  conservatories. 
Self-playing  instruments  perform  technical  mira- 
cles, and  are  valuable  inasmuch  as  they  interest 
a  number  of  persons  who  would  otherwise  avoid 
music  as  an  ineluctable  mystery.  Furthermore, 
the  unerring  ease  with  which  these  machines  de- 
spatch the  most  appalling  difficulties  has  turned 
the  current  toward  what  is  significant  in  a  musi- 
cal performance:  touch,  phrasing,  interpretation. 
While  a  child's  hand  may  set  spinning  the  Don 
Juan  Fantasie  of  Liszt,  no  mechanical  appliance 
yet  contrived  can  play  a  Chopin  ballade  or  the 
Schumann  concerto  as  they  should  be  played. 

I  mention  purposely  these  cunning  inven- 
tions because  I  do  not  think  that  they  have 
harmed  the  public  interest  in  pianoforte  recitals; 
rather  have  they  stimulated  it.  Never  before 
has  the  standard  of  execution  and  interpretation 
been  so  high.  The  giant  wave  of  virtuosity  that 
broke  over  Europe  in  the  middle  of  the  nineteenth 
century  has  not  yet  receded.  A  new  artist  on  the 
keyboard  is  eagerly  heard  and  discussed.  If  he 
be  a  Paderewski  or  a  Joseflfy,  he  is  the  centre  of 

418 


MODERN  PIANOFORTE   VIRTUOSI 

a  huge  admiration.  The  days  of  Liszt  were  re- 
newed when  Paderewski  made  his  tours  in  Amer- 
ica. Therefore,  it  is  not  an  exaggeration  to  say 
that  not  until  now  has  good  playing  been  so  little 
of  a  rarity. 

But  a  hundred  years  ago  matters  were  differ- 
ent. It  was  in  1839  that  Franz  Liszt  gave  the 
first  genuine  pianoforte  recital,  and,  possessing 
a  striking  profile,  he  boldly  presented  it  to  his 
audiences;  before  that  pianists  either  faced  or 
sat  with  their  backs  to  the  public.  No  matter 
what  avenue  of  music  the  student  travels,  he 
will  be  sure  to  encounter  the  figure  of  Liszt. 
Yet  neither  Liszt  nor  Chopin  was  without  artistic 
ancestors.  That  they  stemmed  from  the  great 
central  tree  of  European  music;  that  they  at  first 
were  swept  down  the  main  current,  later  con- 
trolled it,  are  facts  that  to-day  are  the  common- 
places of  the  schools;  though  a  few  decades  ago 
those  who  could  see  no  salvation  outside  of  Ger- 
man music-making,  be  it  never  so  conventional, 
failed  to  recognise  the  real  significance  of  either 
Liszt  or  Chopin,  Both  men  gave  Europe  new 
forms,  a  new  harmonic  system,  and  in  Liszt's 
case  his  originality  was  so  marked  that  from 
Wagner  to  Tschaikowsky  and  the  Russians,  from 
Cornelius  to  Richard  Strauss,  Arnold  Schoenberg 
and  the  still  newer  men,  all  helped  themselves  at 
his  royal  banquet;  some,  like  Wagner,  a  great 
genius,  taking  away  all  they  needed,  others  glad 
to  catch  the  very  crumbs  that  fell.  But  the  inno- 
vators in  form  have  not  always  proved  supreme 

419 


FRANZ  LISZT 

creators.  In  the  case  of  Wagner  the  plumed  and 
serried  phrases  of  Liszt  recall  the  r61e  played  by 
Marlowe  in  regard  to  Shakespeare. 

Liszt's  very  power,  muscular,  compelling,  set 
pianoforte  manufacturers  to  experimenting.  A 
new  instrument  was  literally  made  for  him,  an  in- 
strument that  could  thunder  like  an  orchestra, 
sing  like  a  voice,  or  whisper  like  a  harp.  Liszt 
could  proudly  boast,  "le  piano  —  c'est  moi!" 
With  it  he  needed  no  orchestra,  no  singers,  no 
scenery.  It  was  his  stage,  and  upon  its  wires  he 
told  the  stories  of  the  operas,  sang  the  beautiful, 
and  then  novel,  lieder  of  Schubert  and  Schumann, 
revealed  the  mastery  of  Beethoven,  the  poetry 
of  Chopin,  and  Bach's  magical  mathematics. 
He,  too,  set  Europe  ablaze;  even  Paganini  was 
forgotten,  and  the  gentlemanly  Thalberg  with 
his  gentlemanly  playing  suddenly  became  in- 
sipid to  true  music  lovers.  Liszt  was  called  a 
charlatan,  and  doubtless  partially  deserved  the 
appellation,  in  the  sense  that  he  very  often  played 
for  effect's  sake,  for  the  sake  of  dazzling  the 
groundlings.  His  tone  was  massive,  his  touch 
coloured  by  a  thousand  shades  of  feeling,  his 
technic  impeccable,  his  fire  and  fury  bewildering. 

And  if  Liszt  affected  his  contemporaries,  he 
also  trained  his  successors,  Tausig,  Von  Biilow, 
and  Rubinstein  —  the  latter  was  never  an  actual 
pupil,  though  he  profited  by  Liszt's  advice  and 
regarded  him  as  a  model.  Karl  Tausig,  the 
greatest  virtuoso  after  Liszt  and  his  equal  at 
many  points,  died  prematurely.     Never  had  the 

420 


MODERN   PIANOFORTE    VIRTUOSI 

world  heard  such  controlled,  plastic,  and  objec- 
tive interpretations.  His  iron  will  had  drilled 
his  Slavic  temperament  so  that  his  playing  was, 
as  Joseffy  says,  "a  series  of  perfectly  painted 
pictures."  His  technic,  according  to  those  who 
heard  him,  was  perfection.  He  was  the  one 
pianist  sans  peur  et  sans  reproche.  All  schools 
were  at  his  call.  Chopin  was  revived  when  he 
played;  and  he  was  the  first  to  hail  the  rising 
star  of  Brahms  —  not  critically,  as  did  Schumann, 
but  practically,  by  putting  his  name  on  his 
eclectic  programmes.  Mr.  Albert  Ross  Parsons, 
the  well-known  New  York  pianist,  critic,  and 
pedagogue,  once  told  the  present  writer  that  Tau- 
sig's  playing  evoked  the  image  of  some  magnifi- 
cent mountain.  "And  Joseffy?"  was  asked  — 
for  Joseffy  was  Tausig's  favourite  pupil.  "The 
lovely  mist  that  enveloped  the  mountain  at  dusk," 
was  Mr.  Parsons's  happy  answer.  Since  then 
Joseffy  has  condense^  this  mist  into  something 
more  solid,  while  remaining  quite  as  beautiful. 

Rubinstein  I  heard  play  his  series  of  historical 
recitals,  seven  in  all;  better  still,  I  heard  him 
perform  the  feat  twice.  I  regret  that  it  was  not 
thrice.  If  ever  there  was  a  heaven-storming 
genius,  it  was  Anton  Rubinstein.  Nicolas  Rub- 
instein was  a  wonderful  artist;  but  the  fire  that 
flickered  and  flamed  in  the  playing  of  Anton  was 
not  in  evidence  in  the  work  of  his  brother.  You 
felt  in  listening  to  Anton  that  the  piece  he  hap- 
pened to  be  playing  was  heard  by  you  for  the  first 
time — the  creative  element  in  his  nature  was  so 
421 


FRANZ  LISZT 

strong.  It  seemed  no  longer  reproductive  art. 
The  same  thing  has  been  said  of  Liszt.  Often 
arbitrary  in  his  very  subjective  readings,  Rub- 
instein never  failed  to  interest.  He  had  an  over- 
powering sort  of  magnetism  that  crossed  the 
stage  and  enveloped  his  audience  with  a  gripping 
power.  His  touch,  to  again  quote  Joseffy,  was 
like  that  of  a  French  horn.  It  sang  with  a  mel- 
low thunder.  An  impressionist  in  the  best  sense 
of  that  misunderstood  expression,  he  was  the  re- 
verse of  his  rival  and  colleague,  Hans  von  Biilow. 
The  brother-in-law,  a  la  main  gouche,  of  that 
Brother  of  Dragons,  Richard  Wagner,  Von  Biilow 
was  hardly  appreciated  during  his  first  visit  to 
America  in  1876-77.  Rubinstein  had  preceded 
him  by  three  seasons  and  we  were  loath  to  believe 
that  the  rather  dry,  angular  touch  and  clear-cut 
phrasing  of  the  little,  irritable  Hans  were  revela- 
tions from  on  high.  Nevertheless,  Von  Biilow, 
the  mighty  scholar,  opened  new  views  for  us  by 
his  Beethoven  and  Bach  playing.  The  analyst 
in  him  ruled.  Not  a  colourist,  but  a  master  of 
black  and  white,  he  exposed  the  minutest  mean- 
ings of  the  composer  that  he  presented.  He  was 
the  first  to  introduce  Tschaikowsky's  brilliant 
and  clangorous  B-flat  minor  concerto.  Of  his 
Chopin  performances,  I  retain  only  the  memory 
of  the  D-flat  Nocturne.  That  was  exquisite,  and 
all  the  more  surprising  coming  from  a  man  of  Von 
Biilow's  pedantic  nature.  His  last  visit  to  this 
country,  several  decades  ago,  was  better  appreci- 
ated, but  I  found  his  playing  almost  insupport- 
422 


MODERN    PIANOFORTE   VIRTUOSI 

able.  He  had  withered  in  tone  and  style,  a 
mummy  of  his  former  alert  self. 

The  latter-day  generation  of  virtuosi  owe  as 
much  to  Liszt  as  did  the  famous  trinity,  Tausig, 
Rubinstein,  Von  Biilow.  Many  of  them  studied 
with  the  old  wizard  at  Rome,  Budapest,  and  Wei- 
mar; some  with  his  pupils;  all  have  absorbed 
his  traditions.  It  would  be  as  impossible  to  keep 
Liszt  out  of  your  playing  —  out  of  your  fingers, 
forearms,  biceps,  and  triceps, —  as  it  would  be 
to  return  to  the  naive  manner  of  an  Emmanuel 
Bach  or  a  Scarlatti.  Modern  pianoforte-playing 
spells  Liszt. 

After  Von  Biilow  a  much  more  naturally  gifted 
pianist  visited  the  United  States,  Rafael  Joseffy. 
It  was  in  1879  that  old  Chickering  Hall  witnessed 
his  triumph,  a  triumph  many  times  repeated 
later  in  Steinway  Hall,  Carnegie  Hall,  the  Metro- 
politan Opera  House,  and  throughout  America. 
At  first  Joseffy  was  called  the  Patti  of  the  Piano- 
forte, one  of  those  facile,  alliterative,  meaningless 
titles  he  never  merited.  He  had  the  coloratura, 
if  you  will,  of  a  Patti,  but  he  had  something  be- 
sides —  brains  and  a  poetic  temperament.  Po- 
etic is  a  vague  term  that  usually  covers  a  weak- 
ness in  technic.  There  are  different  sorts  of 
poetry.  There  is  the  rich  poetry  of  Paderewski, 
the  antic  grace  and  delicious  poetry  of  De  Pach- 
mann.  The  Joseflttan  poetry  is  something  else. 
Its  quality  is  more  subtle,  more  recondite  than 
the  poetry  of  the  Polish  or  the  Russian  pianist. 
Such   miraculous   finish,   such   crystalline   tone 

423 


FRANZ  LISZT 

had  never  before  been  heard  until  Joseffy  ap- 
peared. At  first  his  playing  was  the  purest  pan- 
theism —  a  transfigured  materialism,  tone,  and 
technic  raised  to  heights  undreamed  of.  Years 
later  a  new  Joseffy  was  bom.  Stem  self-dis- 
cipline, as  was  the  case  with  Tausig,  had  won  a 
victory  over  his  temperament  as  well  as  his  fin- 
gers. More  restrained,  less  lush,  his  play  is  now 
ruled  by  the  keenest  of  intellects,  while  the  old 
silvery  and  sensuous  charm  has  not  vanished. 
Some  refused  to  accept  the  change.  They  did 
not  realise  that  for  an  artist  to  remain  station- 
ary is  decadence.  They  longed  for  graceful  tri- 
fling, for  rose-coloured  patterns,  for  swallow-like 
flights  across  the  keyboard,  by  a  pair  of  the 
most  beautiful  piano  hands  since  Tausig's.  In  a 
word,  these  people  did  not  care  for  Brahms  and 
they  did  care  very  much  for  the  Chopin  Valse 
in  double  notes.  But  the  automatic  piano  has 
outpointed  every  virtuoso  except  Rosenthal  in 
the  matter  of  mere  technic.  So  we  enjoy  our 
Brahms  from  Joseffy,  and  when  he  plays  Liszt 
or  Chopin,  which  he  does  in  an  ideal  style,  far 
removed  from  the  tumultuous  thumpings  of  the 
average  virtuoso,  we  turn  out  in  numbers  to  en- 
joy and  applaud  him.  His  music  has  that  inde- 
finable quality  which  vibrates  from  a  Stradiva- 
rius  violin.  His  touch  is  like  no  other  in  the  world, 
and  his  readings  of  the  classics  are  marked  by 
reverence  and  authority.  In  certain  Chopin 
numbers,  such  as  the  Berceuse,  the  F-minor  bal- 
lade, the  barcarolle,  and  the  E-minor  concerto, 
424 


MODERN    PIANOFORTE   VIRTUOSI 

he  has  no  peer.  Equally  lucid  and  lovely  are  his 
performances  of  the  B-flat  major  Brahms  con- 
certo and  the  A-major  concerto  of  Liszt.  Joseffy 
is  unique. 

There  was  an  interregnum  in  the  pianoforte 
arena  for  a  few  years.  Joseffy  was  reported  as 
having  been  discovered  in  the  wilds  above  Tarry- 
town  playing  two-voiced  inventions  of  Bach,  and 
writing  a  new  piano  school.  Arthur  Friedheim 
appeared  and  dazzled  us  with  the  B-minor  Sonata 
of  Liszt.  It  was  a  wonder-breeding,  thrilling 
performance.  Alfred  Griinfeld,  of  Vienna,  cara- 
coled across  the  keys  in  an  amiably  dashing  style. 
Rummel  played  earnestly.  Ansorge  also  played 
earnestly.  Edmund  Neupert  delivered  Grieg's 
Concerto  as  no  one  before  or  since  has  done. 
Pugno  came  from  Paris,  Rosenthal  thundered; 
Sauer,  Stavenhagen,  Siloti,  Slivinski,  Mark 
Hambourg,  Burmeister,  Hyllested,  Faelten,  Sher- 
wood, Godowsky,  Gabrilowitsch,  Vogrich,  Von 
Sternberg,  Jarvis,  Richard  Hoffmann,  Boscovitz 
—  to  go  back  some  years;  Alexander  Lambert, 
August  Spanuth,  Klahre,  Lamond,  Dohnanyi, 
Busoni,  Baerman,  Saint-Saens,  Stojowski,  Lhd- 
vinne,  Rudolph  Ganz,  MacDowell,  Otto  Hegner, 
Josef  Hofmann,  Reisenauer  —  none  of  these 
artists  ever  aroused  such  excitement  as  Pade- 
rewski,  though  a  more  captivating  and  brilliant 
Liszt  player  than  Alfred  Reisenauer  has  been 
seldom  heard. 

It  was  about  1891  that  I  attended  a  rehearsal 
at  Carnegie  Hall  in  which  participated  Ignace 

425 


FRANZ  LISZT 

Jan  Paderewski.  The  C-minor  concerto  of  Saint- 
Saens,  an  effective  though  musically  empty  work, 
was  played.  There  is  nothing  in  the  composi- 
tion that  will  test  a  good  pianist;  but  Paderewski 
made  much  of  the  music.  His  tone  was  noble, 
his  technic  adequate,  his  single-finger  touch  sing- 
ing. Above  all,  there  was  a  romantic  tempera- 
ment exposed;  not  morbid  but  robust.  His 
strange  appearance,  the  golden  aureoled  head, 
the  shy  attitude,  were  rather  puzzling  to  public 
and  critic  at  his  debut.  Not  too  much  enthusi- 
asm was  exhibited  during  the  concert  or  next 
morning  in  the  newspapers.  But  the  second 
performance  settled  the  question.  A  great  artist 
was  revealed.  His  diffidence  melted  in  the  heat 
of  frantic  applause.  He  played  the  Schumann 
concerto,  the  F-minor  concerto  of  Chopin,  many 
other  concertos,  all  of  Chopin's  music,  much  of 
Schumann,  Beethoven,  and  Liszt.  His  recitals, 
first  given  in  the  concert  hall  of  Madison  Square 
Garden,  so  expanded  in  attendance  that  he 
moved  to  Carnegie  Hall.  There,  with  only  his 
piano,  Paderewski  repeated  the  Liszt  miracle. 
And  year  after  year.  Never  in  America  has  a 
public  proved  so  insatiable  in  its  desire  to  hear 
a  virtuoso.  It  is  the  same  from  New  Orleans  to 
Seattle.  Everywhere  crowded  halls,  immense 
enthusiasms.  Now  to  set  all  this  down  to  an 
exotic  personality,  to  occult  magnetism,  to  sen- 
sationalism, would  be  unfair  to  Paderewski  and 
to  the  critical  discrimination  of  his  audiences. 
Many  have  gone  to  gaze  upon  him,  but  they  re- 

426 


MODERN    PIANOFORTE   VIRTUOSI 

mained  to  listen.  His  solid  attainments  as  a 
musician,  his  clear,  elevated  style,  his  voluptu- 
ous, caressing  touch,  his  sometimes  exaggerated 
sentiment,  his  brilliancy,  endurance,  and  dreamy 
poetry  —  these  qualities  are  real,  not  imaginary. 

No  more  luscious  touch  has  been  heard  since 
Rubinstein's.  Paderewski  often  lets  his  singing 
fingers  linger  on  a  phrase;  but  as  few  pianists 
alive,  he  can  spin  his  tone,  and  so  his  yielding  to 
the  temptation  is  a  natural  one.  He  is  intellec- 
tual and  his  readings  of  the  classics  are  sane.  Of 
poetic  temperament,  he  is  at  his  best  in  Chopin, 
not  Beethoven.  Eclectic  is  the  best  word  to  ap- 
ply to  his  interpretations.  He  plays  programmes 
from  Bach  to  Liszt  with  commendable  fidelity 
and  versatility.  He  has  the  power  of  rousing 
his  audience  from  a  state  of  calm  indifference  to 
wildest  frenzy.  How  does  he  accomplish  this? 
He  has  not  the  technic  of  Rosenthal,  nor  that 
pianist's  brilliancy  and  power;  he  is  not  as  subtle 
as  Joseffy,  nor  yet  as  plastic  in  his  play;  the  mor- 
bid witchery  of  De  Pachmann  is  not  his;  yet  no 
one  since  Rubinstein — in  America  at  least — can 
create  such  climaxes  of  enthusiasm.  Deny  this  or 
that  quality  to  Paderewski;  go  and  with  your  own 
ears  and  eyes  hear  and  witness  what  we  all  have 
heard  and  witnessed. 

I  once  wrote  a  story  in  which  a  pianist  figured 
as  a  mesmeriser.  He  sat  at  his  instrument  in  a 
crowded,  silent  hall  and  worked  his  magic  upon 
the  multitude.  The  scene  modulates  into  mad- 
ness. People  are  transported.  And  in  all  the 
427 


FRANZ  LISZT 

rumour  and  storm,  the  master  sits  at  the  keyboard 
but  does  not  play.  I  assure  you  I  have  been  at 
Paderewski  recitals  where  my  judgments  were  in 
abeyance,  where  my  individuality  was  merged 
in  that  of  the  mob,  where  I  sat  and  wondered  if 
I  really  heard;  or  was  Paderewski  only  going 
through  the  motions  and  not  actually  touching 
the  keys  ?  His  is  a  static  as  well  as  a  dramatic 
art.  The  tone  wells  up  from  the  instrument,  is 
not  struck.  It  floats  languorously  in  the  air,  it 
seems  to  pause,  transfixed  in  the  air.  The  Sar- 
matian  melancholy  of  Paderewski,  his  deep  sen- 
sibility, his  noble  nature,  are  translated  into  the 
music.  Then  with  a  smashing  chord  he  sets  us, 
the  prisoners  of  his  tonal  circle,  free.  Is  this  the 
art  of  a  hypnotiser  ?  No  one  has  so  mastered  the 
trick,  if  trick  it  be. 

But  he  is  not  all  moonshine.  The  truth  is, 
Paderewski  has  a  tone  not  as  large  as  mellow. 
His  fortissimo  chords  have  hitherto  lacked  the 
foundational  power  and  splendour  of  d'Albert's, 
Busoni's,  and  Rosenthal's.  His  transition  from 
piano  to  forte  is  his  best  range,  not  the  extremes 
at  either  end  of  the  dynamic  scale.  A  healthy, 
sunny  tone  it  is  at  its  best,  very  warm  in  colour. 
In  certain  things  of  Chopin  he  is  unapproachable. 
He  plays  the  F-minor  concerto  and  the  E-flat 
minor  scherzo  —  from  the  second  Sonata  — 
beautifully,  and  if  he  is  not  so  convincing  in 
the  Beethoven  sonatas,  his  interpretation  of  the 
E-flat  Emperor  concerto  is  surprisingly  free  from 
morbidezzaj  it  is  direct,  manly,  and  musical.  His 
428 


MODERN   PIANOFORTE   VIRTUOSI 

technic  has  gained  since  his  advent  in  New  York. 
This  he  proved  by  the  way  he  juggled  with  the 
Brahms-Paganini  variations;  though  they  are 
still  the  property  of  Moritz  Rosenthal.  He  is 
more  interesting  than  most  pianists  because  he 
is  more  musical;  he  has  more  personal  charm; 
there  is  the  feeling  when  you  hear  him  that  he  is 
a  complete  man,  a  harmonious  artist,  and  this 
feeling  is  very  compelling. 

The  tricky  elf  that  rocked  the  cradle  of  Vladi- 
mir de  Pachmann  —  a  Russian  virtuoso,  born 
in  Odessa  (1848),  of  a  Jewish  father  and  a  Turk- 
ish mother  (he  once  said  to  me,  "My  father  is  a 
Cantor,  my  mother  a  Turkey") — must  have 
enjoyed  —  not  without  a  certain  malicious  peep 
at  the  future  —  the  idea  of  how  much  worriment 
and  sorrow  it  would  cause  the  plump  little  black- 
haired  baby  when  he  grew  up  and  played  the 
pianoforte  like  the  imp  of  genius  he  is.  It  is 
nearly  seventeen  years  since  he  paid  his  first  visit 
to  us.  His  success,  as  in  London,  was  achieved 
after  one  recital.  Such  an  exquisite  touch,  sub- 
tlety of  phrasing,  and  a  technic  that  failed  only 
in  broad,  dynamic  effects,  had  never  before  been 
noted.  Yet  De  Pachmann  is  in  reality  the  product 
of  an  old-fashioned  school.  He  belongs  to  the 
Hummel-Cramer  group,  which  developed  a  pure 
finger  technic  and  a  charming  euphony,  but 
neglected  the  dramatic  side  of  delivery.  Tone 
for  tone's  sake;  absolute  finesse  in  every  figure; 
scales  that  are  as  hot  pearls  on  velvet;  a  perfect 
trill;  a  cantilena  like  the  voice ;  these,  and  repose 
429 


FRANZ  LISZT 

of  style,  are  the  shibboleth  of  a  tradition  that  was 
best  embodied  in  Thalberg  —  plus  more  tonal 
power  in  Thalberg's  case.  Subjectivity  enters 
largely  in  this  combination,  for  De  Pachmann  is 
"modem,"  neurotic.  His  presentation  of  some 
Chopin  is  positively  morbid.  He  is,  despite  his 
marked  restrictions  of  physique  and  mentality, 
a  Chopin  player  par  excellence.  His  fingers 
strike  the  keys  like  tiny  sweet  mallets.  His 
scale  passages  are  liquid,  his  octave  playing 
marvellous,  but  en  miniature  —  like  everything 
he  attempts.  To  hear  him  in  a  Chopin  polo- 
naise is  to  realise  his  limitations.  But  in  the 
larghetto  of  the  F- minor  concerto,  in  the  noc- 
turnes and  preludes  —  not  of  course  the  big  one 
in  D  minor  —  etudes,  valses,  ah !  there  is  then 
but  one  De  Pachmann.  He  can  be  poetic  and 
capricious  and  elfish  in  the  mazurkas;  indeed,  it 
has  been  conceded  that  he  is  the  master-inter- 
preter of  these  soul-dances.  The  volume  of  tone 
that  he  draws  from  his  instrument  is  not  large, 
but  it  is  of  a  distinguished  quality  and  very  musi- 
cal. He  has  paws  of  velvet,  and  no  matter  what 
the  diflSculty,  he  overcomes  it  without  an  effort. 
I  once  called  him  the  pianissimist  because 
of  his  special  gift  for  filing  tones  to  a  whisper. 
His  pianissimo  begins  where  other  pianists  end 
theirs.  Enchanting  is  the  effect  when  he  mur- 
murs in  such  studies  as  the  F  minor  of  Chopin 
and  the  Concert  study  of  Lisz-t  of  the  same  ton- 
ality; or  in  mounting  unisons  as  he  breathlessly 
weaves  the  wind  through  the  last  movement  of 

430 


MODERN   PIANOFORTE   VIRTUOSI 

Chopin's  B-flat  minor  sonata.  Less  edifying 
are  De  Pachmann's  mannerisms.  They  are  only 
tolerated  because  of  his  exotic,  lovely,  and  dis- 
quieting music. 

Of  a  different  and  a  gigantic  mould  is  the  play- 
ing of  Moritz  Rosenthal.  He  is  a  native  of 
Lemberg,  in  Galician  Poland,  a  city  that  has 
held  among  other  artists,  Marcella  Sembrich  and 
Carl  Mikuli,  a  pupil  of  Chopin  and  editor  of  an 
edition  of  his  works.  When  a  mere  child,  twelve 
years  or  so,  Moritz  walked  from  Lemberg  to 
Vienna  to  study  with  Joseffy.  Even  at  that  age  he 
had  the  iron  will  of  a  superman.  He  played  for 
Joseffy  the  E-minor  concerto  of  Chopin,  the 
same  work  with  which  the  youthful  Joseffy  years 
before  had  won  the  heart  of  Tausig.  Setting 
aside  Tausig  —  and  this  is  only  hearsay  —  the 
world  of  "pianism"  has  never  matched  Rosen- 
thal for  speed,  power,  endurance;  nor  is  this  all. 
He  is  both  musical  and  intellectual.  He  is  a 
doctor  of  philosophy,  a  bachelor  of  arts.  He  has 
read  everything,  is  a  linguist,  has  travelled  the 
globe  over,  and  in  conversation  his  unerring  mem- 
ory and  brilliant  wit  set  him  as  a  man  apart. 
To  top  all  these  gifts,  he  plays  his  instrument 
magnificently,  overwhelmingly.  He  is  the  Na- 
poleon, the  conqueror  among  virtuosi.  His  tone 
is  very  sonorous,  his  touch  singing,  and  he  com- 
mands the  entire  range  of  nuance  from  the  rip- 
pling fioritura  of  the  Chopin  barcarolle  to  the 
cannon-like  thunderings  of  the  A-flat  polonaise. 
His  octaves  and  chords  baffle  all  critical  experi- 

431 


FRANZ  LISZT 

ence  and  appraisement.  As  others  play  presto 
in  single  notes,  so  he  dashes  off  double  notes, 
thirds,  sixths,  and  octaves.  His  Don  Juan  fan- 
taisie,  part  Liszt,  part  Mozart,  is  entirely  Rosen- 
thalian  in  performance.  He  has  composed  at 
his  polyphonic  forge  a  Humoreske.  Its  inter- 
weaving of  voices,  their  independence,  the  caprice 
and  audacity  of  it  all  are  astounding.  Tausig 
had  such  a  technic;  yet  surely  Tausig  had  not 
the  brazen,  thunderous  climaxes  of  this  broad- 
shouldered  young  man!  He  is  the  epitome  of 
the  orchestra  and  in  a  tonal  duel  with  the  orches- 
tra he  has  never  been  worsted.  His  interpreta- 
tions of  the  classics,  of  the  romantics,  are  of  a 
superior  order.  He  played  the  last  sonatas  of 
Beethoven  or  the  Schumann  Carneval  with  equal 
discrimination.  His  touch  is  crystal-like  in  its 
clearness,  therefore  his  tone  lacks  the  sensuous- 
ness  of  Paderewski  and  De  Pachmann.  But  it 
is  a  mistake  to  set  him  down  as  a  mere  un- 
emotional mechanician.  He  is  in  reality  a  Super- 
man among  pianists. 

Eugen  d' Albert  has  played  in  America  several 
times,  the  first  time  in  company  with  Sarasate, 
the  Spanish  violin  virtuoso.  Liszt  called  d' Al- 
bert, of  whom  he  was  very  fond,  the  "second 
Tausig."  The  Weimar  master  declared  that  the 
little  Eugen  looked  like,  played  like,  his  former 
favourite,  Karl  Tausig.  In  his  youth  d'Albert 
was  as  impetuous  as  a  thunderbolt;  now  he  is 
more  reflective  than  fiery,  and  he  is  often  careless 
in  his  technical  work.     Another  pianist  who  has 

432 


MODERN   PIANOFORTE   VIRTUOSI 

followed  the  lure  of  composition;  but  a  great 
virtuoso,  a  great  interpreter  of  the  classics.  His 
music  suggests  a  close  study  of  Brahms,  and  in 
his  piano  concertos  he  is  both  Brahmsian  and 
Lisztian. 

The  first  time  I  heard  Saint-Saens  was  in  Paris 
the  year  1878.  He  played  at  the  Trocadero, 
palace  —  it  was  the  Exposition  year  —  his  clever 
variations  on  a  Beethoven  theme  for  two  pianos, 
Madame  Montigny-Remaury  being  his  colleague. 
In  1896  I  attended  the  fiftieth  anniversary  of  his 
first  public  appearance.  The  affair  took  place 
at  a  piano  hall  in  Paris.  And  several  years  ago  I 
heard  the  veteran,  full  of  years  and  honours,  in 
New  York.  He  had  changed  but  little.  The 
same  supple  style,  siccant  touch,  and  technical 
mastery  were  present.  Not  so  polished  as  Plante, 
so  fiery  —  or  so  noisy  —  as  Pugno,  Saint-Saens 
is  a  greater  musician  than  either  at  the  key- 
board. His  playing  is  Gallic — which  means  it  is 
never  sultry,  emotional,  and  seldom  poetic. 
The  French  pianists  make  for  clearness,  delicacy, 
symmetry;  France  never  produced  a  Rubinstein, 
nor  does  she  cordially  admire  such  volcanic  artists. 

Ossip  Gabrilowitsch  has  been  for  me  always 
a  sympathetic  pianist.  He  has  improved  meas- 
urably since  his  previous  visits  here.  The  poet 
and  the  student  still  preponderate  in  his  work; 
he  is  more  reflective  than  dramatic,  though  the 
fiery  Slav  in  him  often  peeps  out,  and  if  he  does 
not  "drive  the  horses  of  Rubinstein,"  as  Oscar 
Bie  once  wrote,  he  is  a  virtuoso  of  high  rank. 
433 


FRANZ  LISZT 

The  Bie  phrase  could  be  better  applied  to  Mark 
Hambourg,  who  sometimes  is  like  a  full-blooded 
runaway  horse  with  the  bit  between  its  teeth, 
Hambourg  has  Slavic  blood  in  his  veins  and 
it  courses  hotly.  He  is  an  attractive  player,  a 
younger  Tausig  —  before  Tausig  taught  himself 
the  value  of  repose  and  restraint.  Recklessly 
Hambourg  attacks  the  instrument  in  a  sort  of 
Rubinsteinian  fury.  Of  late  he  has,  it  is  said, 
learned  the  lesson  of  self-control.  His  polyphony 
is  clearer,  his  tone,  always  big,  is  more  sonorous 
and  individual.  It  was  the  veteran  Dr.  William 
Mason  who  predicted  Hambourg's  future.  Ex- 
uberance and  excess  of  power  may  be  diverted 
into  musical  channels  —  and  these  Mark  Ham- 
bourg has.  It  is  not  so  easy  to  reverse  the  process 
and  build  up  a  temperament  where  little  nat- 
urally exists. 

Josef  Hofmann,  from  a  wonder  child  who  in- 
fluenced two  continents,  has  developed  into  an 
artist  who  has  attained  perfection  —  a  somewhat 
cool  perfection,  it  may  be  admitted.  But  what 
a  well-balanced  touch,  what  a  broad,  euphonious 
tone,  what  care  in  building  climaxes  or  shading 
his  tone  to  mellifluous  whisper!  Musically  he 
is  impregnable.  His  readings  are  free  from  ex- 
travagances, his  bearing  dignified,  and  if  we  miss 
the  dramatic  element  in  his  play  we  are  consoled 
by  the  easy  sweep,  the  intellectual  grasp,  and  the 
positively  pleasure-giving  quality  of  his  touch. 
Eclectic  in  style,  Hofmann  is  the  "young-old" 
master  of  the  pianoforte.    And  he  is  Polish  in 

434 


MODERN   PIANOFORTE   VIRTUOSI 

everything  but  Chopin.  But  well-bred!  Per- 
haps Rubinstein  was  right  when  he  said,  so  is  the 
report — at  Dresden,  "Jozio  will  never  have  to 
change  his  shirt  at  a  recital  as  I  did." 

Harold  Bauer  is  a  great  favourite  in  America 
as  well  as  in  Paris.  He  has  a  quiet  magnetism, 
a  mastery  of  technical  resources,  backed  by  sound 
musicianship.  He  was  a  violinist  before  he  be- 
came a  pianist;  this  fact  may  account  for  his  rich 
tone-quality  —  Bauer  could  even  make  an  old- 
fashioned  "square"  pianoforte  discourse  elo- 
quently. He,  too,  is  an  eclectic;  all  schools 
appeal  to  him  and  his  range  is  from  Bach  to 
Caesar  Franck,  both  of  whom  he  interprets  with 
reverence  and  authority.  Bauer  played  Liszt's 
Dance  of  Death  in  this  country,  creating  thereby 
a  reputation  for  brilliant  "pianism."  The  new 
men,  Lh^vinne,  Ganz,  Scriabine,  Stojowski,  are 
forging  ahead,  especially  the  first  two,  who  are 
virtuoso  artists.  The  young  Swiss,  Ganz,  is  a  very 
attractive  artist,  apart  from  his  technical  attain- 
ments ;  he  is  musical,  and  that  is  two-thirds  of 
the  battle.  Two  men  who  once  resided  in  Amer- 
ica, Ferrucio  Busoni  and  Leopold  Godowsky, 
went  abroad  and  conquered  Europe.  Busoni  is 
called  the  master-interpreter  of  Bach  and  Liszt; 
the  master-miniaturist  is  the  title  bestowed  upon 
the  miracle-working  Godowsky,  whose  velvety 
touch  and  sensitive  style  have  been  better  appre- 
ciated in  Europe  than  America. 

The  fair  unfair  sex  has  not  lacked  in  repre- 
sentative piano  artists.    Apart  from  the  million 

435 


FRANZ  LISZT 

girls  busily  engaged  in  manipulating  pedals,  slay- 
ing music  and  sleep  at  one  fell  moment,  there  is 
a  band  of  keyboard  devotees  that  has  earned 
fame  and  fortune,  and  an  honourable  place  in 
the  Walhalla  of  pianoforte  playing.  The  modem 
female  pianist  does  not  greatly  vary  from  her 
male  rival  except  in  muscular  power,  and  even 
in  that  Sofie  Menter  and  Teresa  Carreno  have 
vied  with  their  ruder  brethren.  Pianists  in 
petticoats  go  back  as  far  as  Nanette  Streicher 
and  come  down  to  Paula  Szalit,  a  girl  who,  it  is 
said,  improvises  fugues.  Marie  Pleyel,  Madame 
de  Szymanowska  —  Goethe's  friend  at  Marien- 
bad,  in  1822  —  Clara  Schumann,  Arabella  God- 
dard,  Sofie  Menter,  Annette  Essipoff  —  once 
Paderewski's  adviser,  and  a  former  wife  of  Les- 
chetitzky;  Marie  Krebs,  Ingeborg  Bronsart, 
Aline  Hundt,  Fannie  Davies,  Madeliene  Schiller, 
Julia  Rive-King,  Helen  Hopekirk,  Nathalie 
Janotha,  Adele  Margulies,  the  Douste  Sisters, 
Amy  Fay,  Dory  Petersen,  Cecilia  Gaul,  Madame 
Paur,  Madame  Lhevinne,  Antoinette  Szumow- 
ska,  Adele  Aus  der  Ohe,  Cecile  Chaminade, 
Madame  Montigny-Remaury,  Madame  Roger- 
Miclos,  Marie  Torhilon-Buell,  Augusta  Cottlow, 
Mrs.  Arthur  Friedheim,  Laura  Danzinger  Rose- 
bault,  Olga  Samaroff,  Fannie  Bloomfield  Zeisler 
—  these  are  a  few  well-known  names  before  the 
public  during  the  past  and  in  the  present. 

It  may  be  assumed  that  the  sex  which  can  boast 
among  its  members  such  names  as  Jane  Austen, 
George  Sand,  George  Eliot,  novelists;  Vigee  Le- 

436 


MODERN    PIANOFORTE    VIRTUOSI 

brun,  Mary  Cassatt,  Cecilia  Beaux,  and  Berthe 
Morisot,  painters;  Sonia  Kovalevsky,  mathema- 
tician; Madame  Curie,  science;  Elizabeth  Barrett 
Browning  and  Christina  Rossetti,  poetry,  would 
not  fail  in  the  reproductive  art  of  pianoforte  play- 
ing. Clara  Schumann  was  an  unexcelled  inter- 
preter of  her  husband's  music;  Sofie  Menter  the 
most  masculine  of  Liszt's  feminine  choir;  Essipoff 
unparalleled  as  a  Chopin  player;  Carreno  has  a 
man's  head,  man's  fingers,  and  woman's  heart; 
Fannie  Bloomfield  Zeisler,  an  artist  of  singular 
intensity  and  strong  personality — these  women 
have  admirably  contributed  to  the  history  of  their 
art  and  need  not  fear  comparisons  on  the  score 
of  sex. 

How  far  will  the  pursuit  of  technic  go,  and 
what  will  be  the  effect  upon  the  mechanical  future 
of  the  instrument  ?  It  is  both  a  thankless  and  a 
dangerous  task  to  prophesy;  but  it  seems  that 
technic  qua  technic  has  ventured  as  far  as  it  dare. 
Witness  the  astounding  arrangements  made  by 
the  ingenious  Godowsky,  the  grafting  of  two 
Chopin  studies,  both  hands  autonomous,  racing 
at  full  speed !  The  thing  is  monstrous  —  yet 
effective;  but  that  way  musical  madness  hes. 
The  Janko  keyboard,  a  sort  of  ivory  toboggan- 
slide,  permitted  the  performance  of  incredible 
difficulties;  glissandi  in  chromatic  tenths!  But 
who  in  the  name  of  Apollo  cares  to  hear  chro- 
matic tenths  sliding  pell-mell  down-hill!  Music 
is  music,  and  a  man  or  woman  must  make  it, 
not  alone  an  instrument.    The  tendency  now  is 

437 


FRANZ  LISZT 

toward  the  fabrication  of  a  more  sensitive,  vibrat- 
ing sounding-board.  Quality,  not  brutal  quan- 
tity, is  the  desideratum.  This,  with  the  more  re- 
sponsive and  elastic  keyboard  action  of  the  day, 
which  permits  all  manner  of  finger  nuance,  will 
tell  upon  the  future  of  the  pianoforte.  Machine 
music  has  usurped  our  virtuosity;  but  it  can 
never  reign  in  the  stead  of  the  human  artist.  And 
therefore  we  now  demand  more  of  the  spiritual 
and  less  of  the  technical  from  our  pianists.  Music 
is  the  gainer  thereby,  and  the  old-time  cacopho- 
nous concerto  for  pianoforte  and  orchestra  will, 
we  hope,  be  relegated  to  the  limbo  of  things  inu- 
tile. The  pianoforte  was  originally  an  intimate 
instrument,  and  it  will  surely  go  back,  though 
glorified  by  experience,  to  its  first,  dignified  es- 
tate. 

I  have  written  more  fully  of  the  pianists  that 
I  have  had  the  good  fortune  to  hear  with  my  own 
ears.  This  is  what  is  called  impressionistic 
criticism.  Academic  criticism  may  be  loosely  de- 
fined as  the  expression  of  another's  opinion.  It 
has  decided  historic  interest.  In  a  word,  the  for- 
mer tells  how  much  you  enjoyed  a  work  of  art, 
whether  creative  or  interpretive;  the  latter  what 
some  other  fellow  liked.  So,  accept  these  sketches 
as  a  mingling  of  the  two  methods,  with  perhaps 
a  disproportionate  stress  laid  upon  the  personal 
element  —  the  most  important  factor,  after  all, 
in  criticism. 


438 


INSTEAD  OF  A  PREFACE 

This  book,  projected  in  1902,  was  at  that  time 
announced  as  a  biography  of  Liszt.  However, 
a  few  tentative  attacks  upon  the  vast  amount  of 
raw  material  soon  convinced  me  that  to  write  the 
ideal  life  of  the  Hungarian  a  man  must  be  plen- 
tifully endowed  with  time  and  patience.  I  pre- 
ferred, therefore,  to  study  certain  aspects  of  Liszt's 
art  and  character;  and  as  I  never  heard  him 
play  1  have  summoned  here  many  competent 
witnesses  to  my  aid.  Hence  the  numerous  con- 
tradictions and  repetitions,  arguments  for  and 
against  Liszt  in  the  foregoing  volume,  frankly 
sought  for,  rather  than  avoided.  The  personal- 
ity, or,  strictly  speaking,  the  various  personali- 
ties of  Liszt  are  so  mystifying  that  they  would 
require  the  professional  services  of  a  half-dozen 
psychologists  to  untangle  their  complex  web.  As 
to  his  art,  I  have  quoted  from  many  conflict- 
ing authorities,  hoping  that  the  reader  will  evolve 
from  the  perhaps  confusing  pattern  an  authentic 
image  of  the  man  and  his  music.  And  all  the 
biographies  I  have  seen  —  Lina  Ramann's,  de- 
spite its  violent  parti  pris,  is  the  most  complete 
(an  urquell  for  its  successors)  —  read  like  glori- 
fied time-tables.  Now,  no  man  is  a  hero  to  his 
biographer,  but  the  practice  of  jotting  down  un- 

439 


FRANZ  LISZT 

important  happenings  makes  your  hero  very 
small  potatoes  indeed.  An  appalling  number  of 
pages  are  devoted  to  the  arrival  and  departure 
of  the  master  at  or  from  Weimar,  Rome,  or 
Budapest.  "Liszt  left  Rome  for  Budapest  at 
8.30  A.  M.,  accompanied  by  his  favourite  pupil 
Herr  Fingers,"  etc.;  or,  "Liszt  returned  to 
Weimar  at  9  p.  m.,  and  was  met  at  the  station 
by  the  Baroness  W.  and  Professor  Handgelenk." 
A  more  condensed  method  is  better,  though  it 
may  lack  interest  for  the  passionate  Liszt  ad- 
mirers. As  for  the  chronicling  of  small-beer,  I 
hope  I  have  provided  sufficient  anecdotes  to 
satisfy  the  most  inveterate  of  scandal-mongers. 
I  may  add  that  for  over  a  quarter  of  a  century  I 
have  been  collecting  Lisztiana;  not  to  mention 
the  almost  innumerable  conversations  and  inter- 
views I  have  enjoyed  with  friends  and  pupils 
of  Liszt. 

I  wish  to  acknowledge  the  help  and  sympathy 
of:  Camille  Saint-Saens,  Frederick  Niecks,  Rafael 
Joseffy,  the  late  Anton  Seidl,  Felix  Weingartner, 
Arthur  Friedheim,  Richard  Burmeister,  Henry 
T.  Finck,  Philip  Hale,  W.  F.  Apthorp,  the  late 
Edward  Dannreuther,  Frank  Van  der  Stucken, 
August  Spanuth,  Emil  Sauer,  Moritz  Rosenthal, 
Eugen  d'Albert,  Amy  Fay,  Rosa  Newmarch, 
Jaroslaw  de  Zielinski,  the  late  Edward  A.  Mac- 
Dowell,  John  Kautz,  of  Albany  (who  first  sug- 
gested to  me  the  magnitude  of  Liszt's  contri- 
bution to  the  art  of  rhythms),  Charles  A.  Ellis, 
of  the  Boston  Symphony  Orchestra,  and  Edward 
440 


INSTEAD   OF   PREFACE 

E.  Ziegler.  I  am  also  particularly  indebted  to 
the  following  publications  for  their  courtesy  in 
the  matter  of  reproduction  of  various  articles: 
Scrihner^s  Magazine^  New  York  Sun,  Evening 
Post,  Herald,  Times,  The  Etude,  Everybody's 
Magazine,  and  The  Musical  Courier. 

An  exhaustive  list  of  the  compositions  has  yet 
to  be  made,  though  Gollerich  in  his  Franz  Liszt 
consumes  fifty-five  pages  in  enumerating  the 
works  —  compiled  from  Lina  Ramann,  Breit- 
kopf  and  Hartel,  and  Busoni — some  of  which 
never  saw  the  light  of  publication;  such  as  the 
opera  Don  Sancho,  the  Revolutionary  Symphony, 
etcetera;  When  Breitkopf  and  Hartel  finish  their 
cataloguing  no  doubt  the  result  will  be  more  satis- 
factory. The  fact  is  that  out  of  the  known  i  ,300 
compositions,  only  400  are  original  and  of  these 
latter  how  many  are  worth  remembering  ?  Liszt 
wrote  too  much  and  too  often  for  money.  His 
best  efforts  will  survive,  of  course;  but  I  do  not 
see  the  use  of  making  a  record  of  ephemeral  pot- 
boilers. It  is  the  same  with  the  bibliography. 
I  give  the  sources  whenever  I  can  of  my  informa- 
tion ;  impossible,  however,  is  it  to  credit  the  author- 
ship of  all  the  flotsam  and  jetsam.  Kapp  in  his 
ponderous  biography  actually  devotes  twenty- 
ceven  pages  to  the  books,  magazines,  and  news- 
papers which  have  dealt  with  the  theme,  though 
even  his  Teutonic  industry  has  not  rendered  flaw- 
less his  drag-net. 

Liszt  was  the  most  caricatured  man  in  Europe 
save  Wagner  and  Louis  Napoleon,  and  he  was 
441 


FRANZ  LISZT 

painted,  sculptured,  and  photographed  oftencr 
than  any  operatic  or  circus  celebrity  who  ever 
sang  or  swung  in  the  break-neck  trapeze.  Nat- 
urally the  choice  of  illustrations  for  this  study 
was  narrowed  down  to  a  few  types,  with  here  and 
there  a  novelty  (dug  up  from  some  ancient  al- 
bum) ;  yet  sufficient  to  reveal  Liszt  as  boy,  youth, 
man;  fascinating,  dazzling,  enigmatic  artist, 
comedian,  abb^,  rhapsodist,  but  ever  the  great- 
souled  Franz  Liszt. 

J.  H. 


442 


INDEX 


Acton,  Lord,  14. 

Adam,  Madame  Edmond.  (See 

Juliette  Lamber.) 
Adelaide  (Beethoven's),  216. 
Albano,  79. 

Aldega,  Professor,  381. 
Aldrich,  Richard,  195. 
Alkan,  63,  408. 
Allegri,  84. 
Allmers,  W.,  79. 
Altenburg,  The  (Liszt's  house 

at  Weimar),  2 1 ,  24,  47, 48,  53, 

261,  362,  389. 
Amalia,  Anna,  328. 
Amalie    Caroline,    Princess   of 

Hesse,  198. 
Amiel,  64. 

Andersen,  Hans   Christian,  ac- 
1^  count  of  a  Liszt  concert,  230- 

234- 
Anfossi,  80. 
Ansorge,   Conrad   (pupil),   98, 

332.  425- 
Antonelli,  Cardinal,  22,  49,  50. 
Apel,    Frau    Pauline     (Liszt's 

housekeeper),  327. 
"Apr6s  une  lecture  de  Dante" 

(Hugo),  152. 
Apthorp,     W.     F.,    172,    173; 

analysis  of  the  Concerto  in 

A  major,  173,  174. 
Arnim,  Countess  Bettina  von, 

42,43,  261;  Graf  von,  89, 261. 
Auber,  172,  204,  281. 
Auerbach,  Berthold,  139. 
Aufforderung  zum  Tanz 

(Weber),  93,  205,  207,  253. 
Augener  &  Company,  181. 
August,  Karl,  328. 
"Aus  der  Glanzzeit  der  Wei- 

maren    Altenburg"  (La 

Mara),  44. 
Aus  der  Ohe,  AdSle  (pupil),  24, 

436. 
Austen,  Jane,  436. 
Ave  Maria  (Schubert's),  216. 


Bach,  32, 62, 185, 375,  381,  42^, 
435;  Chevalier  Leonard  E., 
312. 

Bache,  Walter  (pupil),  196, 312, 
384-386. 

Bachez,  226. 

Baerman,  425. 

Bagby,  Albert  Morris  (pupil), 

370- 
Baillot,  204,  209. 
Bakounine,  38. 
Ballads     (Chopin),    186,    399, 

424. 
Ballanche,  78. 
Balzac,  26,  39. 
Barber  of  Bagdad  (Cornelius), 

48. 
Barcarolle  (Chopin),  424,  431. 
Barna,  Michael,  198,  199. 
Barnett,  J.  F.,  385. 
Barry,  C.  A.,  127,  139. 
Bartolini,  416. 
Baudelaire,  19. 
Bauer,  Caroline,  Reminiscences 

of,    241-244;    Harold,    174, 

435- 

Beale,  Frederick,  308;  Willert, 
308. 

"Beatrix"  (Balzac),  39. 

Beato,  Fra,  84. 

Beethoven,  4,  5, 6, 10, 13, 30, 31, 
32,52,54,  55,62,67,84,105, 
115,  120,  160,  171,  179,  185, 
186,  202,  204,  210,  217,  281, 
375.  381,  408,  409,  411,  413, 
420,  432;  festival  at  Bonn, 
225,  376;  his  piano,  262,  339; 
statue     of,     unveiled,     226. 

"  Beethoven  et  Ses  Trois  Styles" 
(von  Lenz),  201. 

Belgiojoso,  Princess  Cristina,  8, 
14,  16,  42,  82,  286. 

Belloni,  213,  237. 

Bendix,  Max,  66. 

Benedict,  Julius,  283,  284. 

Berceuse  (Chopin),  186,  424. 


443 


INDEX 


Bergerat,  Emile,  320. 

Beringer,  Oscar,  376,  377. 

Berlioz,  5,  6,  8,  10,  17,  19,  20, 
26,  28,  29,  30,  31,  36,  47,  53, 
55.  64,  67,  82,  85,  105,  145, 
155.  157.  158.  169,  171,  183, 

186,  193,  200,  204,  258,  259, 
282,  300,  337,  411,  415;  ac- 
count of  his  friendship  with 
Liszt,  2 10-2 1 7 ;  letter  to  Liszt, 
215-217. 

Berne,  81. 

Berta,  91. 

Bethmann,  Simon  Maritz,  15. 

Bie,  Oscar,  433. 

Bielgorsky,    Count,    294,    296, 

297. 
Birmingham  Musical  Festival, 

Bishop,  Sir  Henry,  307. 
Bismarck,  179. 
Bizet,  378-380. 
Blackwood's  Magazine,  304. 
Blaze  de  Bury,  Baron,  article 

on  Liszt,  218,  219. 
Blessington,  Countess  of,  252. 
Bocella,  165. 
Bock,  Anna,  276. 
Borodin,  24,  27. 
Boscovitz,  425. 
Bbsendorfer,  171. 
Bossuet,  26. 
Bourget,  Paul,  141. 
Bovary,  Emma,  16. 
Brahm,  Otto,  332. 
Brahms,  9,  19,  53,  57,  153,  185, 

187,  375,  405,  408,  421,  424, 

425.  433- 
Brandes,  Georg,  5. 
Breidenstein,  Professor,  226. 
Breithaupt,  Rudolf,  402. 
Breitkopf  and  Hartel,  94,  197, 

408. 
Brendel,  Franz  (pupil),  194. 
Breughel,  28. 
"Briefe    und  Schriften"    (von 

Biilow),  179. 
Bright,  John,  11. 
Broadwood  piano,  339. 
Bronsart,    Hans    von    (pupil), 

172;  Ingeborg  von,  401,  436. 
Bulgarin,  124. 
Biilow,  Daniela  von,  279;  Hans 

von  (Liszt's  favorite  pupil), 

IS,   19,  3T,  45,  93,  96,   lOI, 


136-138,  168,  176,  177,  179, 
228,  229,  362,  402,  420,  422, 
423;  Appreciation  of  Die 
Ideale,  136;  Criticism  of,  398, 
400. 

Bunsen,  Von,  83. 

Burmeister,  Richard  (pupil), 
24,  52.  177.  178,  340,  359. 
425- 

Burne- Jones,  18. 

Busoni,  Ferrucio,  402,  408,  425, 
428,  435. 

Byron,  11,  16,  34,  115,  124, 
398. 

Cabaner,  29. 

Callot,  28. 

Calvocoressi,  56. 

Campo  Santo  of  Pisa,  175. 

Canterbury,  Lord,  252. 

Carolsfield,  J.  Schnorr  von,  79. 

Carreno,  Teresa,  402,  436,  437. 

Casanova,  34. 

Catarani,  Cardinal,  49. 

Catel,  89. 

Cezano,  Marquise.  (See  Olga 
Janina.) 

Chamber  music,  195. 

Chaminade,  Cecile,  436. 

Chantavoine,  Jean,  56. 

Charpentier,  10. 

Chateaubriand,  11,  26,  29,  43, 
64. 

Chelard,  226. 

Cherubini,  204. 

Chopin,  Fr6deric  Francois,  4,  5, 
6,  7,  12,  14,  15,  17,  19,  26,  29, 
38.  39.  40,  43.  59.  60,  63,  73- 
77.  145.  186,  201,  204,  238, 
282,  287,  288,  300,  308,  328, 
367.  372,  375.  381.  405.  408, 
415,  416,  418,  419. 

Chorley,225,  228,  252. 

Christophe,  Jean;  description 
of  Liszt,  2. 

Church  music,   187,   188,   190, 

193.  194- 

Cimarosa,  80. 

Circourt,  Madame  de,  319,  320. 

Clementi,  62,  302. 

Coblentz,  Tribute  from  citi- 
zens of,  244. 

Cognetti,  Mademoiselle,  98. 

Collin,  Von,  115. 

Cologne,  cathedral  at,  248. 


444 


INDEX 


Colpach  (Munkaczy's  castle  in 
Luxemburg),  25,  44,  280. 

Commettant,  Oscar,  satirical 
sketch  of,  219,  220. 

Concerto  (Bach),  293. 

Concerto  (Beethoven),  202. 

Concerto  (Chopin),  396,  424, 
426,  428,  430. 

Concerto  (Tschaikowsky),  422. 

Concertsttick  (Weber's),  212, 
219,  288,  29^. 

Consalvi,  Cardinal,  79. 

Constant,  Benjamin,  11. 

"Conversation  on  Music"  (Ru- 
binstein), 156. 

Coriolanus  (Beethoven's),  115. 

Cornelius,  Peter  (pupil),  19,  22, 
27,  28,  83,  89,  139,  165,  260, 
362,  419. 

Correggio,  28. 

Correspondent,  The,  210. 

Cosima  von  Biilow  Wagner,  15, 
20,  23,  25,  44,  49,  58,  93,  96, 
loi,  141,  228. 

Cottlow,  Augusta,  436. 

Coutts,  Baroness  Burdett,  313. 

Craig,  Gordon,  332. 

Cramer,  J.  B.,  62,  184,  225, 
302. 

Crux  Fidelis  (choral),  133. 

Crystal  Palace,  London,  139. 

Cymbal  effects  in  piano-play- 
ing, 161. 

Czaky,  Archbishop  of,  200. 

Czerny,  Carl,  13,  72,  73,  182, 
184.  302,  3o8>  317.  406. 

Czinka,  Pauna,  a  gypsy  girl,  199. 

D'Agoult,  Comte  Charles,  15; 
Countess  (Marie  Sophie  de 
Flarigny),  3, 14, 15,  25,  37,  39- 
41, 43,  80,  85,  86,  87,  246,  247, 

259.  391- 
D 'Albert,    Eugen    (pupil),    24, 

174,  359.  370.  372,  402,  428, 

432- 
Damnation  de  Faust  (Berlioz), 

199. 
Damrosch,     Leopold     (pupil), 

118,  138,  139,  174,  197. 
D'Angers,  David,  416. 
Dannreuther,  20,  152,  181,  191, 

_i93- 

Dante,  8,  147-152,  155;  gallery 
(Rome),  382. 


Danton,  220,  221. 

Danube  flood,  81. 

Danzinger-Rosebault,  Laura, 
436- 

Davies,  Fannie,  436. 

Da  Vinci,  28. 

Debais,  The,  211. 

De  Beriot,  283. 

Debussy,  10,  31. 

Dehmel,  Richard,  33a. 

Delacroix,  5. 

Delaroche,  16,  28. 

De  Musset,  39. 

De  Pachmann,  Vladimir,  24, 
61,  423,  427,  429-431,  432. 

De  Quincy,  27. 

Devrient,  Ludwig,  139. 

Dictionary  of  Musicians,  385. 

Dietrichstein,  Prince,  359. 

Dilke,  Wentworth,  228. 

Dinglested,  48. 

Diorama,  The,  152. 

Dobrjan  (Liszt's  birthplace). 
(See  Raiding.) 

Doehler,  17. 

Dohnanyi,  425. 

Don  Carlos,  241. 

Donizetti,  63,  86. 

Doppler,  Franz,  158, 

Dore,  Gustave,  28. 

D'Ortigue  on  Liszt,  217,  218. 

Douste  sisters,  436. 

Draeseke,  21. 

Dukas,  10. 

Du  Plessis,  Marie,  19. 

Dupre,  Jules,  11. 

Dwight,  John  S.  (Boston  mu- 
sical critic),  interview  with 
Liszt,  228,  329. 

Eckermann,  64. 

Edict  of  Louis  XII.  80. 

"  L'Education     Sentimentale  " 

(Flaubert),  26. 
Ehlert,  Louis,  17,  363. 
El  Greco,  28. 
Eliot,  George,  43,  47,  53,  436; 

Weimar  recollections  of,  258. 
Ellet,  Mrs.,  account  of  a  Liszt 

concert  in  Cologne,  248,  249. 
Ellis,  Havelock,  12. 
Enfantin,  P^re  Prosper,  14. 
Eperjes,  198. 
Erard    piano,    59,     301,     318, 

3^3- 


445 


INDEX 


Emani,  258. 

Ernst,  Paul,  332. 

Escudier,  Leon,  description  of 
Dan  ton's  statuette  of  Liszt, 
220,  231;  incident  at  one  of 
Henri  Herz's  concerts,  221, 
222. 

Essipoff,  Annette,  436,  437. 

Essler,  Fanny,  235. 

Esterhazy,  Prince,  304;  estates, 
12. 

Etruscan  Museum,  83. 

Etude,  The,  381. 

Etudes  (Chopin),  75. 

Euryanthe,  Overture  to,  181. 

Faelten,  425. 

Fallersleben,  Hoffmann  von 
(lyric  poet),  165,  260. 

Fantasia  (Bach),  383. 

Fantasia  (Schumann),  57. 

Faure,  281. 

Faust  (Lenau's),  71. 

Faust  Ouverture,  Eine  (Wag- 
ner's), 143. 

Fay,  Amy,  38,  436. 

Feodorovna,  Empress  Alexan- 
dra, 295. 

Fetis  and  Moscheles,  185. 

Feuerbach,  89. 

Fichtner,  Pauline,  24. 

Field,  368. 

Figaro,  The  (London),  384. 

Finck,  Henry  T.,  165,  179,  194, 
196,  314. 

Fischer,  Signor,  345;  Wilhelm, 
147. 

Fischof,  226. 

Flaubert,  Gustave,  16,  26. 

Flavigny,  Vicomte  de,  15. 

Foyatier,  18. 

Francia,  84. 

Francis  Joseph,  king  of  Hun- 
gary, 96. 

Franck,  Caesar,  435. 

Franz,  Robert,  19,  66,  229,  411. 

Frederic  (piano  tuner),  287. 

"Frederick  Chopin"  (Niecks), 

Freemasons  Journal,  The,  389. 
Freischutz    (Weber's),    205, 

214. 
Friedheim,  Arthur  (pupil),  24, 

70,  359.  368-373,  425.     Mrs. 

Arthur,  436. 


Gabrilowitsch,  Ossip,  425,  433. 

Galitsin,  Prince  (governor-gen- 
eral of  Moscow),  294. 

Galleria  Dantesca,  102. 

Garcia,  Viardot,  388. 

Garibaldi,  89. 

Gaul,  Cecilia,  276,  436. 

Gautier,  Judith,  17;  Margue- 
rite, 40;  Theophile,  5,  11. 

Gauz,  Rudolph,  425,  435. 

Gazette  Musicale  (Parb),  77, 
179,  193,  287,  288. 

Geneva,  15,  81. 

Genoa,  81. 

George  IV,  304. 

Gericke  (conductor),  147, 
151-. 

Gervais,  359. 

GiUe,  21. 

Gillet,  281. 

Giocati-Buonaventi,  A.,  390. 

Giorgione,  28. 

Glinka,  297,  298. 

Gluck,  30,  84. 

Goddard,  Arabella,  436. 

Godowsky,  Leopold,  402,  425, 

^435.  437- 

Goethe,  9,  11, 15, 19,  22,  34,  43, 
47,  64,  78,  84,  85,  88,  89,  113, 
145,  146,  155,  165,  167,  196, 
211,  223,  279,  328,  329,  330, 
436;  foundation,  48. 

Goethe-Schiller  monument,  un- 
veiling of,  133. 

Gollerich,  August  (pupil  and 
biographer),  44,  49,  55,  57, 
58,  98,  118,  359. 

Goncourt,  26. 

Gott,  Joseph,  381. 

Gottschalg,  A.  W.  (pupil),  21, 
56; "  Franz  Liszt  in  Weimar," 

^358- 

Gounod,  217. 

Gradus  (Clementi),  59. 

Grafe,  280. 

Gran   (Hungary),   Basilica  at, 

188. 
Gregorovius,  78,  79,  88,  89,  91, 

93,  98,  102. 
Gregory  VH,  c6;  XIV,  83. 
Grieg,  Eduardf,  24,  425;  piano 

concerto,  313-316. 
Grove,  Sir  George,  385. 
Griinfeld,  Alfred,  425. 
Griinwald,  Matthew,  28. 


446 


INDEX 


Guido  of  Arezzo,  73. 
Gumprecht,  29. 

Habeneck  (conductor),  204. 

Hackett,  Francis,  14. 

Haen,  Charlotte  von,  42. 

Hahn,  Arthur,  112. 

Hahnel,  Professor,  226. 

Hale,  Philip,  5,  66,  127,  135, 
151,  171,  174,  320. 

Hal6vy,  204,  378. 

Hall,  Walter  (conductor),  192. 

Hambourg,  Mark,  425,  434. 

Handel,  31, 120,  304,  381. 

Handley,  Mrs.,  319. 

Hanslick,  Eduard,  53, 139, 171. 

Harold,  106. 

Harmonic  system,  419. 

Hauptmann,  385. 

Hayden,  10. 

Haydn,  Joseph,  12,  31,  84,  105, 
142,  160,  172,  409. 

Healey,  417. 

Hegel,  233. 

Hegner,  Otto,  425. 

Heine,  9,  11,  17,  124,  165; 
reminiscences  of  Liszt,  234- 
241. 

Helbig,  Madame  Nadine  (Prin- 
cess Nadine  Schakovskoy  (pu- 
pil), 42, 102. 

Henderson,  W.  J.,  192;  on  the 
St.  Elisabeth   Legend,    192, 

193- 

Henselt,  209. 

Herder,  Jonathan  Gottfried, 
130,  328. 

Hermann,  Carl  (pupil),  276. 

Herwegh,  George,  235. 

Herz,  Henry,  17,  65,  221,  222, 
308. 

Herz-Parisian  school,  59. 

Hill,  Edward  Burlingame,  381. 

Hiller,  Ferdinand,  3,  35,  53, 
293,  320. 

History  of  Charles  XII  (Vol- 
taire), 124;  of  the  French 
Revolution  (Francois  Mig- 
net),  14. 

Hoffman,  Richard,  425;  recol- 
lections of  Liszt,  316-318. 

Hofgartnerei,  The  (Liszt's  resi- 
dence  in  Weimar),  23,   58, 

389- 
Hofmann,  Josef,  425,  434. 


Hohenlohe,  Cardinal  Prince,  22, 

93.  94,  97- 
Hohenlohe-Schillingsfurst, 

Prince,  48.  ■; 

Hopekirk,  Helen,  436. 
Hotel   d'Alibert    (Liszt's    resi- 
dence in  Rome),  98,  340. 
"Hour  Passed  with  Liszt,  An" 

(By  B.  W.  H.),  275-279. 
Hueffer,  Dr.,  166. 
Hugo,  Victor,  5,  108,  124,  152, 

16s,  204. 
Huguenots  (Meyerbeer's),  145. 
Humboldt,  48,  78. 
Hummel,    J.   N.,    12,    13,   73, 

202,  224;  concerto,  304,  317. 
Hundt,  Aline,  436. 
Hungarian  Diet,  debate  in,  200; 

Museum    (Budapest),    338; 
Hyllested,  425. 

Ideale,  Die  (Schiller),  133,  134. 

Idealism,  59. 

Ibsen,  71. 

"Inchape  Bell"  (Parry),  310. 

Ingres,  Jean  Auguste  Domi- 
nique, 83,  84,  416,  417. 

Irving,  Henry,  32. 

Ivanowski,  Peter  von  (father  of 
the  Princess  Sayn-Wittgen- 
stein),  45. 

lames,  Henry,  27,  141. 
fanin,  Jules,  40,  228. 
fanina,  Olga  (pupil),  41. 
fanko  keyboard,  437. 
fanotha,  Nathalie,  436. 
farvjs,  425. 
[ensen,  Adolf,  363. 
Joachim,  Joseph  (pupil),  3, 19, 

S3,  57,  358. 
Joseffy,  Rafael  (pupil),  24,  57, 

63. 66,  374-376, 418, 421, 425. 

427.  431- 
Jonkovsky,  Baron,  417. 

Kahrer,  Laura,  24. 
Kalkbrenner,  17,  65,  201,  202, 

204,  205-207,  302. 
Kapellmeister,  21. 
Kapp,  Julius,  55,  56,  57. 
Karlsruhe  (music  festival  at), 

93- 
Kaulbach,  Wilhelm  von,  9,  28, 
84,  132,  416. 


447 


INDEX 


Kemble,  Fanny,  244;  impres- 
sion of  Liszt,  245. 

Kennedy,  Mgr.,  343,  344. 

Kessler,  Count,  332. 

Kieff,  45- 

Kindworth,  Karl  (pupil),  362, 
403- 

Kirkenbuhl,  Karl,  extracts  from 
his  "  Federzeichnungen  aus 
Rom,"  267-275. 

Kissingen,  280. 

Kistner  (Leipsic  publisher), 
414- 

Klahre,  Edwin  (pupil),  425. 

Kleinmichael's  piano  score,  142. 

Klindworth,  Agnes  Street,  42. 

Klinger,  Max,  331,  334. 

Klinkerfuss,  Johanna,  24. 

Kloss,  George,  389. 

Kohler,  Louis  (pupil),  138. 

Kovacs,  338. 

Kovalensky,  Sonia,  437. 

Kraftmayr  (Von  Wolzogen), 
57- 

Krebs,  Marie,  436. 

Krehbiel,  H.  E.,  10. 

Kremlin,  29. 

Kriehuber,  417. 

Krockow,  Countess,  363. 

Kullak,  383. 

La  Mara  (Marie  Lipsius) 
(pupil),  35,  39,  42,  44,  49. 

Lamartine,  9,  204,  398. 

Lamb,  Charles,  30. 

Lamber,  Juliette,  criticism  of 
George  Sand,  39. 

Lambert,    Alexander    (pupil), 

174,  425- 

Lamenais,  14,  79. 

Lamond,  Frederick,  312,  425. 

Landes  Musikakademie,  97. 

Lanyi,  Joann  von,  199. 

Laprunardde,  Adele  (Duchesse 
de  Fleurj')  (pupil),  37. 

Lassen,  19. 

Laussot,  Jessie  Hillebrand,  42. 

Lavenu,  309,  310. 

Legouv6,  Ernest,  214;  compari- 
son of  Liszt  and  Thalberg's 
playing,  281-291,  416. 

Lehmann,  259. 

Leipsic  school,  52. 

Lenau,  71,  398. 

Lenbach,  416,  417. 


Lenz,  Von  (pupil),  account  of 
his  acquaintance  with  Liszt, 
201-210. 

Leonora  Overture  (Beetho- 
ven's), 153. 

Leo  XII,  80;  XIII,  345,  390. 

Leopold  I,  Emperor,  198. 

Leschetitzky,  436. 

"Lettres  d'un  Voyageur" 
(George  Sand),  322. 

Leyrand,  416. 

Lewald,  Fanny,  79. 

Lewes,  George  Henry,  43,  48. 

Lhevinne,  425,  435;  Madame, 
436- 

Lichnowsky,  Prince  Felix,  241- 

243- 
Liedertafel,  Rhenish,  248,  249. 
Lie,  Erika,  313. 
Liliencron,  Baron  Detlev  von, 

X  331- 

Lind,  Jenny,  403. 

Lindemann-Frommel,  89. 

LiondmUla,  298. 

Lipsius,  Marie.  (See  La  Mara.) 

Listemann  (conductor),  147. 

Liszt,  Adam,  12,  317;  Anna 
Lager,  12;  Blandine,  15,  90, 
97;  Cosima  (see  Cosima  von 
Biilow  Wagner);  Daniel,  15. 
16,  97;  Edward,  169. 

Liszt,  Franz,  abuse  of,  in  Ger- 
many, 3;  affectation  in  his 
work,  157;  alters  harmonic 
minor  scale,  163;  amiability 
of,  21;  amusing  story  of  con- 
version, 320-326;  anecdotes, 
57,  58,  loi,  142,  180,  221, 
237, 243,  254,  255, 378;  appre- 
ciation of  Saint-Saens,  104, 
105;  as  a  teacher,  14,  23;  as 
Abbe,  18,  50,  97,  267,  27s; 
biographers  of,  51,  55,  56, 
101;  birth  of,  II,  12;  birth- 
place of,  13;  boyhood  of,  13, 
14,  300-305;  in  Budap)est,  97; 
character  of  his  music,  29,  30, 
78;  children  of,  15,  16,  86, 
359;  chivalry  of,  11,  34,  56; 
Chopin's  obligation  to,  6,  73- 
77;  comment  on  his  13th 
Psalm,  194,  195;  comparison 
of  established  symphonic  form 
with  that  devised  by  Liszt, 
140;  compared  with  Wagner, 


448 


INDEX 


io8,  143, 144;  as  composer,  i, 
2,  13,  14.20,31,  35,  43,  52- 
56,  86,  90,  103,  144,  327,  377, 
409-413;  concerts  of,  34,  212, 
221,  223,  224,  230,  235,  248, 
288,  292,  293,  302,  305,  319; 
as  conductor,  2,  87,  135,  258, 
377;  conducts  at  Aix-la-Cha- 
pelle,  13s;  conducts  in  Berlin, 
137;  conducts  at  Prague,  136; 
conducts  at  Pesth,  94, 96;  con- 
ducts in  Rome,  94;  conducts 
in  Weimar,  88;  conversa- 
tion of,  258,  259,  276;  court 
musical  director  (Weimar), 
22,  46,  47;  creator  of  the  sym- 
phonic Doem,  26, 27, 106, 139, 
140;  criticisms  regarding,  2,  8, 
14,  17,  21,  64,  153-158,  194, 
360,  399;  and  the  Countess 
d'Agouit,  14-16,  80,  8r,  85, 
391;  daily  mode  of  life,  99, 
100;  death  of,  i,  2,  25,  280; 
dedications,  57,  100, 169, 172; 
description  of  his  ideal  of  ro- 
mantic religious  music,  193; 
in  England,  300-3 1 3 ;  fascinat- 
ing personality  of,  45,  235, 
236,  241,  246,  256,  257;  fem- 
inine friendships  of,  34-43; 
fingering,  74, 187;  Freemason, 
389;  friendship  with  Berlioz, 
212;  friendship  with  Cardinal 
Prince  Hohenlohe,  22;  friend- 
ship with  Chopin,  14,  40; 
friendship  with  Jean  Auguste 
Dominique  Ingres,  83,  84; 
and  Marguerite  Gautier,  40; 
generosity  of,  24,  loi,  257, 
258;  gifts  from  sovereigns, 
328;  greatest  contribution  to 
art,  4;  hand  of,  328,  339; 
illness  of,  44,  135;  impres- 
sionability of,  8,  10,  n;  im- 
provisations of,  82,  180,  181; 
indebtedness  to  Chopin, 76;  in- 
fluence of  Berlioz,  17,  55,411; 
influence  of  Chopin,  17,  145, 
411;  influence  of  gipsy  music, 
160;  influence  of  Meyerbeer, 
145;  influence  of  Paganini, 
17;  influence  of  Wagner,  191; 
ingratitude  of  Schumann,  57; 
on  instruments  of  percussion, 
170,  171;  interest  in  German 


art,  90;  interest  in  Tausig, 
362;  interpretation,  87;  inter- 
view with,  228,  229;  intimacy 
with  Prince  Lichnowsky, 
241-243;  intrigues  against, 
22;  introduces  interlocking 
octaves,  77;  introduces  the 
piano  recital,  71,  419;  and 
Olga  Janina,  41;  lack  of  ap- 
preciation of,  31,  141,  229; 
and  the  Countess  Ad^le  La- 
prunar&de,  37;  letters  of,  9, 
35.  37.  44.  46,  92,  135,  136, 
138.  143.  150.  169,  170,  171, 
179.  194.  195.  197.  219.  ?79. 
280,  289,  290,  394,  414;  liter- 
ary work  of,  19,  20;  in  Lon- 
don, 300-313;  loss  of  Piano 
Method,  Part  III,  358;  love 
affairs  of,  2,  3,  19-23,  36-41, 
88;  and  Lola  Montez,  40,  41; 
musical  style  of,  4,  181;  mu- 
sical imagmation,  8,  146;  no- 
tation, 187;  number  of  com- 
positions, 56;  orchestral  form, 
194;  orchestral  instrumenta- 
tion, 157;  orchestral  music  of, 
32,  123,  190;  as  organ  com- 
poser, 401,  402;  original  com- 
positions of,  412,  413;  on 
origin  of  his  Tasso,  115;  on 
origin  of  his  Orpheus,  121; 
parents  of,  12,  14,  251;  in 
Paris,  13,  24;  patience  of,  27; 
pedalling,  62,  99,  187;  pen 
picture  of,  57;  personal  ap- 
pearance, 18,  89,  98,  204, 
231.  255,  262,  269,  276,  296, 
297;  personal  characteristics, 
2.  3.  17.  66,  71,  327;  piano- 
forte virtuoso,  I,  2,  8,  14,  16, 
18,  43.  56,  73.  94,  106,  247, 
251,  252,  420;  piano  music  of, 
10,  II,  53,  66,  123,  168,  187, 
409-413;  piano  recitals,  82, 
83.  179.  308-311,  419;  piano 
reform,  91 ;  piano  of,  328, 340, 
342,  343,  394;  and  the  Coun- 
tess Louis  Plater,  37;  playing 
of,  17,  60-64,  87,  99,  141,  161, 
208,  214,  223,  224,  232,  233, 
238-240,  253,  266,  277,  278, 
285,  292,  298,  314,  316,  421; 
plays  Weber's  Sonatas,  207, 
208:  plays  at  Berlioz's,  210; 


449 


INDEX 


at  Bizet's,  379;  at  court  of 
Wurtemburg,  252;  at  Karls- 
ruhe, 93;  at  Legouv6's,  215; 
at  Munkaczy's,  35;  at  Tol- 
stoy's, 102;  at  Windsor  Castle, 
304;  portraits  of,  16,  18,  42, 
261,  289,  338,  416,  417;  pre- 
diction at  birth  of,  12;  pre- 
dominating artistic  influences, 
17;  prophecy  of,  100;  public 
speaking  of,  179,  213,  226, 
227;  pupils  of,  24,  36, 42,  51, 
52,  57,  91,  98,  185,  263,  353- 
388;  alphabetical  list  of  pupils, 
353-358;  reading  of,  14;  real- 
ism of,  67 ;  reformer  of  church 
music,  2;  religious  fervor  of, 
89-92, 97,  98,  196;  residences 
in  and  around  Rome,  343; 
revolutionist,  142;  romanti- 
cism of,  II,  14,  28;  in  Rome, 
78-85,  89-97, 102;  in  Russia, 
294-300;  and  Caroline  de 
Saint-Criq,  36,  37;  and 
George  Sand,  39,  40,  247; 
and  the  Princess  Sayn-Witt- 
genstein,  19-24,  43-51;  Schu- 
mann's indebtedness  to,  56; 
as  song  writer,  165-168;  start- 
ed new  era  in  Hungarian  mu- 
sic, 160;  statues  of,  13,  18, 
220,  221,  332;  success  of,  13, 
52;  as  teacher,  14,  97,  100, 
209.  339.  358,  395-397;  tech- 
nique of,  34,  62,  70,  72,  152, 
313,  402,  407,  421,  437;  tem- 
perament of,  28,  29;  tempo, 
164,  165,  187;  testimonals, 
328;  theological  studies  of, 
95;  theory  of  gipsy  music,  20; 
thought  his  career  a  failure, 
26;  tirelessness  of,  17;  tomb 
of,  25,  58;  the  triangle,  170- 
172;  tribute  by  Wagner,  23; 
variety  of  rhythms  of,  31; 
versatility  of,  51,  88,  144;  on 
virtuosity,  392,  393;  Wagner's 
indebtedness  to,  i,  3,  5,  6,  9, 
31,  55,  141-144;  Wagner's 
praise,  9,  103,  142;  wander- 
ings of,  34,  70,  81,  85,  87,  93, 
94-96,  97;  in  Weimar,  19,  23, 
46,  47,  87,  88,  96,  169,  329; 
writing  for  solo  and  choral 
voices,  190. 


Liszt,  Franz — ^Works: 

AUeluja,  92. 

Angelus,  195,  196. 

Apparitions,  The,   66. 

Ave  Maria,  92,  224,  294. 

Ballad  in  B  minor,   399. 

Ballades,  66,  186. 

Benediction  de  Dieu,  143. 

Berceuse,  186. 

Chore  zu  Herder's  Entfesselte 
Prometheus,  130, 131. 

Chorus  of  Angels,  196,  197. 

Concert  Study,  430. 

Concertos,  168-174,  187; 
Concerto  Pathetique  in  E 
minor,  66,  177,  178;  Con- 
certo for  piano  and  orches- 
tra, No.  I,  in  E  flat,  67, 
168-172;  Concerto  for  pi- 
ano. No.  2,  in  A  major 
(Concert  Symphonique ), 
66,  172-174. 

Consolations,  187,413. 

Don  Sancho,  14. 

Elegier,  The,  66, 

Etudes,  66,  72,  181-185,  305, 
408;  Etude  in  D  flat,  99; 
Etude  in  F  minor.  No.  10, 
72;  Etudes  de  Concert 
(three),  72,  184;  Etudes 
d'execution  transcendante 
(twelve),  72,  86,  181,  182; 
Etudes  en  douze  exercices. 
Op.  I,  181;  Etudes,  second 
set  of,  182;  Ab-Irato,  66,  72, 
184,  185;  Au  Bord  d'une 
Source,  70,  72;  Au  Lac  de 
Wallenstadt,  72;  Danse 
Macabre,  84,  182,  187; 
Feux-foUets,  72,  184;  Gno- 
menreigen,  72,  92,  184, 
400;  Harmonies  du  Soir, 
72,  18^,  184;  Irrlichter, 
400;  Ricordanza,  72,  184, 
187;  Studies  of  Storm  and 
Dread,  183;  Vision,  183; 
Wilde  Jagd,  183;  Waldes- 
rauschen,  72,  92,  184; 
Excelsior,  143. 

Evocatio  in  der  Sixtinischen 
Kapelle,  90,  143. 

Fantasias,  1 79-181,  401;  An- 
nees  de  P^erinage,  11,  66, 
70,  86,  152,  187,  412; 
r  antasia  on  Don  Juan,  298, 


450 


INDEX 


407,  418,  433;  Fantasia 
Dramatique,  187;  Fantasia 
on  Reminiscences  of  Puri- 
tani,  82;  Fantasia  on 
Themes  by  Pacini,  292; 
Fantaisie  quasi  sonata 
aprbs  une  lecture  de  Dante, 
86;  II  Penseroso,  84,  86; 
operatic  fantasias,  180, 
181;  Lucia,  63,  180;  Son- 
nambula,  180;  Sposalizio, 
84,  86;  Tre  Sonetti  di  Pe- 
trarca,  86,  187. 

Funeral  March  on  occasion 
of  Maximilian  of  Mexico's 
death,  96. 

Galop  Chromatique,  293, 298. 

Glanes  de  Woronice,  25. 

Harmonies,  412;  Harmonies 
P&tiques  et  Religieuses, 
66. 

Heih'ge  Cacelia,  Die  (essay), 
84. 

Hungarian  gipsy  music,  book 
on,  10. 

Hungarian  March,  317. 

Legends,  66,  412;  Legend  of 
St.  Elisabeth,  88,  90,  143, 
191-193,  272,  273,  312; 
St.  Francis  of  Assisi's 
Hymn  to  the  Sun,  88;  St. 
Francis  of  Assisi  Preach- 
ing to  the  Birds,  92,  186, 
412;  St.  Francis  de  Paula 
Stepping  on  the  Waves,  92, 
186,  412. 

Masses,  4,  54,  187-194; 
Graner  Festmesse,  29,  30, 
S3.  92.  95.  188,  190,  191, 
193,  342;  Hungarian  Coro- 
nation Mass,  95,  96,  189, 
190,  270,  271. 

Mazurkas,  66,  186. 

Mephisto  Waltz,  71,  178, 
231. 

Nocturnes,  66. 

Oratorios,  4,  54;  Oratorio  of 
Christus,  54,  90,  95,  loi, 
104,  193,  194,  328;  Ora- 
torio of  Petrus,  273. 

Organ  variations  on  Bach 
themes,  92,  93;  organ  and 
trombone  composition,  88. 

Piano  arrangements,  86.  Ad- 
elaide, 394, 298 ;  Beethoven 


symphonies,  87,  90;  Bee- 
thoven quartets,  93,  95 ; 
Erlkbnig,  93,  224,  294, 
298. 

Polonaises,  25,  70,  186. 

Psalms,  13,  18,  23,  90,  92, 
137.  194.  195;  Thirteenth 
Psalm,  92,  194,  195. 

Rakoczy  March,  94,  189, 
198-200,337. 

Requiem,  97. 

Rhapsodies  Hongroises,  53, 
65,  100,  157,  158-165,  178, 
187, 189,  367,  407,412;  list 
of,  158,  159. 

Scherzo  imd  Marsch  in  D 
minor,  186. 

Serenade,  294. 

Soir6es  de  Vienne,  25. 

Sonata  in  B  minor,  29,  57, 
59-70,  186,  187,  425. 

Songs,  165-168. 

Sonnets  after  Petrarch,  66. 

Studies  and  fragments,  82. 

Study  of  Chopin,  19. 

Symphonic  poems,  4,  9,  10, 
26,  27,  52,  53,  54,  72,  103, 
104,  106-158,  168,  172, 
377;  La  bataille  des  Huns, 
after  Kaulbach  (Hunnen- 
schlacht),  84,  107,  132, 
133.  143.  153;  Ce  quon 
Entend  sur  la  montagne 
(Berg  Symphony),  107, 
108-112,  153,  328,  415; 
Fest-klainge,  107,  126-129, 
136,  153,  328;  From  the 
Cradle  to  the  Grave  132; 
Hamlet,  107, 132,  153;  H6- 
roide  fundbre,  107,  131, 
153,  178;  Hungaria,  132, 
153.  328;  L'ld^al,  after 
Schiller,  107, 133-139.  i43. 
153. 367;  Mazeppa,  72, 103, 
107,  123-126,  183,  407; 
Orphde,  103,  107, 121,  122, 
143,  328;  Les  Preludes, 
after  Lamartine,  107,  119- 
121,  136,  153,  367;  Pro- 
mdth6e,  107,  122, 123, 130, 
131;  Tasso,  Lamento  and 
Trionfo,  107,  113-118, 136, 
153.  367;  Le  Triompne 
fun^bre  du  Tasse  (epi- 
logue), 97,  118,  197. 


451 


INDEX 


Symphonies:  Dante  Sym- 
phony, II,  19,  38,  53,  94, 
102,  104,  143.  146-155; 
Faust  Symphony,  22,  38, 
S3.  58,  141-146,  154,  155. 
328,  415;  Revolutionary 
Symphony,  14, 38, 132, 142. 

Todtentanz,     174-177,    238, 

407,  435- 
Transcriptions,  65,  66,  86,  90, 

93,  95.  96.  97,   2",   253, 
412;     Isolde's     Liebestod, 
96;  Paganini  studies,  184, 
185,  223;  Symphonic  Fan- 
tastique,  211. 
Valse- impromptu,  186;  Valse 
Oubliee,  66. 
Liszt  fund,  257. 
"Liszt  und  die  Frauen"  (La 

Mara),  35,  42. 
LitolfF,  Henri,  19,  169. 
Litdeton,  Alfred,  313;  Augustus, 

313;  Henry,  311,  312. 
"Le  Livre  de  Caliban"  (Ber- 

gerat),  320. 
Lohengrin  (Wagner),  19, 47, 54, 

137,  188,  329,  377. 
Lorenzetti,  Pietro  and  Ambro- 

^  gio,  175- 
Lotto,  Lorenzo,  18. 
Louis  I,  of  Bavaria,  89. 
Louis,     Rudolf    (Liszt     biog- 
rapher), 101. 
Lytton,  Lord,  133. 

MacColI,  D.  S.,  tribute  to 
music,  32,  33. 

MacDowell,  Edward  (pupil), 
24,  425. 

Mackenzie,  Sir  A.  C,  195,  312. 

Macready  (tragedian),  notes 
from  diary  of,  252. 

Madach,  "The  Tragedy  of 
Mankind,"  338. 

Madonna  del  Rosario  (cloister), 
90. 

Maeterlinck,  71. 

Mahler,  Gustav,  65. 

Mai,  Cardinal,  83. 

Maiden's  Lament,  The  (Schu- 
bert's), 167. 

Makart,  Hans,  338. 

Malibran,  82,  204. 

Manet,  Edouard,  33. 

Manns,  August,  139. 


Marcello,  84. 

Margulies,  Adele,  436. 

Marschner,  6. 

Mason,    Dr.   William    (pupil), 

19,  143,  434- 
Massocia,  79. 
Matisse,  28. 

Maupassant,  Guy  de,  26. 
Maximilian  of  Mexico,  96. 
Mazurka  (Chopin),  65,  186. 
Meditations  Poetiques  (Lamar- 

tine's),  119,  204. 
Mees,  Arthur  (conductor),  191. 
Mehlig,  Anna,  276. 
Meistersinger,  Die  (Wagner),  7. 
Melchers,  Gari,  332. 
Melena,  Elpis,  42. 
"Memories  of  a  Musical  Life" 

(William  Mason),  143. 
Mendelssohn,  Felix,  3,  31,  53, 

66,  73,  85,  105,  293,  300,  309, 

400,    409,    411;    Psalm,   As 

the  Hart  Pants,  293;  Songs 

without  Words,  319. 
Menter,  Sofie  (pupil),  24,  42 

171,  279,  280,  436,  437. 
Mercadante,  86. 
Merian-Genast,  Emilie,  42. 
Merry  del  Val,  Mgr.,  344. 
Mertens-Schaaffhausen,      Frau 

Sibylle,  89. 
Methode  des  Methodes,  185. 
Metternich,  Prince,  244. 
Metternich,  Princess,  243,  244. 
MeyendorflF,  Baroness  Olga  de 

(pupil),  42. 
Meyerbeer,      129,     145,      180, 

236. 
Mezzofanti,  Cardinal,  83. 
Michelangelo,  9,  28,  84. 
Michetti's    Beethoven    Album, 

225. 
Mignet,  Francois,  14. 
Mildner,  212. 
Milnes,       Monckton       (Lord 

Houghton),  252. 
Milozz),  350. 
Minasi,  account  of  conversation 

with  Liszt,  250-252. 
Minghetti,  Princess,  100. 
Mischka  (Liszt's  servant),  loi. 
Mock,  Camille.     (See  Madame 

Plevel.) 
Monday  Review,  The  (Vienna), 

390. 


452 


INDEX 


Montauban,  84. 

Monte  Mario,  Dominican  clois- 
ter of,  50,  90,  91,  93,  94,  100, 
197,  265,  274,  342. 

Montez,  Lola,  19,  40,  226;  ex- 
tracts from ' '  Wits  and  Women 
of  Paris,"  246,  247. 

Montigny-Remaury,  Madame, 
433,  436. 

Moore,  George,  26,  29. 

Mori,  302. 

Morning  Post  (Manchester), 
301-303,  316. 

Morris,  William,  327. 

Moscheles,  185,  221,  317,  385; 
extracts  from  diary  of,  223- 
228. 

Mosenthal,  comments  on  Liszt, 
222. 

Mouchanofif-Kalergis,  Marie 
von,  42,  363. 

Mozart,  10,  31,  32,  62,  84,  105, 
142,  282,  304,  409,  432;  his 
piano,  262. 

MUllerlieder  (Schubert's),  167. 

Munch,  Edward,  28. 

Munkaczy,  25,  44,  280,  417; 
portrait  of  Liszt,  338. 

Murphy,  Lady  Blanche,  ac- 
count of  Liszt's  sojourn  at 
Monte  Mario  in  1862,  265- 
267. 

M usenalmanach.  The,  133. 

Musical  Journal  (London), 
307;  Standard,  The,  378; 
Times  (London),  300;  World 
(London),  308-310. 

Musset,  Alfred  de,  5,  398. 

"  My  Literary  Life  "  (Madame 
Edmond  Adam),  39. 

Nachtigall  (director),  242. 

Natalucci,  381. 

Neate,  302. 

"Nelida"    (by    Countess 

d'Agoult),  41,  259. 
Neo-German  school,  53. 
Nerenz,  89. 

Neue  Zeitschrifl  j'llr  Musik,  92. 
Neupert,  Edmund,  425. 
Newmarch,  Rose,  on  Liszt  in 

Russia,  293-300. 
New  museum,  Berlin,  132. 
Newman,  Ernest,  7,  10. 
Nicholas  I,  Emperor,  295. 


Niecks,  Dr.  Frederick,  40,  73, 

74.  77.  134.  313.  409,  414- 
Nietzsche,    Friedrich,    21,    38, 

144,  327,  329.  331.  333-335. 
360;  Elisabeth  Foerster,  329, 

333.  334- 
Nohant,  81. 

Norma  (Thalberg's),  63. 
Normanby,  Lord,  252. 
Novello,  Clara,  377,  378. 

Obermann,  9. 
Odescalchi,  Princess,  49. 
Olde,  Professor  Hans,  331.' 
OUivier,    Emile,    15;    Madame 
Emile.   (See  Blandine  Liszt.) 
Onslow,  201. 

Orcagna,  Andrea,  28,  84,  175. 
Order  of  the  Golden  Spur,  296. 
Orpheus  (Gluck's),  121. 
Overbeck,  80,  83. 
"Oxford  History  of  Music,"  187. 

Pacini,  292. 

Paderewski,   16,  17,  418,  41  9 

423.  425-428,  432,  436. 
Paer,  80. 
Paganini,  2,   17,   73,   76,  282- 

284,  292,  378,  402,  403,  411; 

caprices,  185. 
Paganini  Studies  (Schumami's), 

73- 

Paisiello,  80. 

Palestrina,  84. 

Palibin,  Madame,  297,  298. 

Paroles  d'un  Croyant  (Lame- 
nais),  14. 

Parry,  John,  309,  310. 

Parsons,  Albert  Ross,  421. 

Passini,  89. 

Paur,  144;  Madame,  436. 

Pavlovna,  Grand  Duchess  Ma- 
ria, 3,  42,  46,  47,  128. 

Pavlovna,  Princess  Maria,  22. 

Petersen,  Dory,  436. 

Petrarca,  165. 

Philharmonic  Society,  London, 
171,  223,  224,  307. 

Pianoforte  music,  notation  of, 
186,  187. 

Piano-playing,  60-66,  423. 

Picasso,  28. 

Piccini,  80. 

Pick,  Mgr.,  345. 

Pietagrua,  Angela,  36. 


453 


INDEX 


Pisa,  Giovanni  da,  84. 

Pius  IX,  45,  48,  50,  91,  92,  loi, 
342,  349.  390;  PiusX,  50;  an 
audience  with,  345-352. 

Pixis,  82,  308. 

Pixis-Gdhringer,  FranciUa,  82. 

Plaidy,  385. 

Planche,  Gustave,  39. 

Plant6,  433- 

Plater,  Countess  Louis  (Grafin 
Brzostowska),    witticism    of, 

^  35.  37- 

Pleyel,  286;  piano,  282;  Marie 

Camiile,  17,  42,  201,  436. 
Podoska,  M.  Calm,  49;  Pauline 

(mother  of  the  Princess  Sayn- 

Wittgenstein),  45. 
Pohl,     Carl    Ferdinand,     300; 

Richard    (pupil),    126,    127, 

130.  149.  151- 
Polonaise  (Chopin),  70,  75,'i86, 

430- 
Porges,  Heinrich  (pupil),  92. 
Potter,  Cipriani,  302. 
Praitorius,  Michael,  172. 
Preludes  (Chopin),  75. 
Programme    music,    106,    115, 

156,  186. 
Prlickner,  Dionys  (pupil),  19, 

^  171- 

P'uckler,  Prince  (pupil),  342. 

Pugna,  425,  433. 

Punch  (London),  312. 

Quarterly  Musical  Magazine 
and  Review  (London),  301. 

Raab,  Toni,  24. 

Raff,  Joachim  (pupil),  19,  27, 
67,  260. 

Raiding  (or  Reiding),  Liszt's 
birthplace,  13,  60,  66,  339. 

Rakoczy,  Prince  Franz,  198, 
200. 

Ramaciotti,  382. 

Ramann,  Lina  (pupil  and  biog- 
rapher), 49,  50,  74-76,  128, 
168,  171,  191,  200. 

Raphael,  9,  28,  80,  84,  233. 

Rauzan,  Duchesse  de,  319. 

Ravel,  10. 

Realism,  61,  62. 

Recamier,  Madame  de,  43. 

"Records  of  Later  Life"  (Kem- 
ble),  244. 


Reeves,  Henry,  extract  from  his 

biography,  319,  320. 
Reger,  10,  30. 
Reichstadt,  Due  de,  11. 
Reisenauer,  Alfred  (pupil),  34, 

425. 
Rembrandt,  28. 
Remenyi,  Edward  (pupil),  19, 

358. 
Reminiscences  of  Liszt: 

Andersen,    Hans    Christian, 
230-234- 

Anonymous     German     Ad- 
mirer, 252-258. 

Anonymous  Lady  Admirer, 
262-265. 

B.  W.  H.,  275-280. 

Bauer,  Caroline,  241-244. 

Beringer,  Oscar,  376,  377. 

Berlioz,  210-217. 

Commettant,  Oscar,  219,  330. 

De  Bury,  Blaze,  218,  319. 

D'Ortigue,  217,  218. 

Dwight,  228,  229. 

Eliot,  George,  258-262. 

EUet,  Mrs.,  248,  249. 

Escudier,  Leon,  220-222. 

Grieg,  Eduard,  313-316. 

Heine,  234-241. 

Hoffman,  Richard,  316-318. 

Kemble,  Fanny,  244,  245. 

Kirkenbuhl,  Karl,  267-275. 

Legouv6,  Ernest,  281-291. 

Macready,  252. 

Minasi,  250-252. 

Montez,  Lola,  246,  247. 

Moscheles,  223-228. 

Mosenthal,  222,  223. 

Murphy,  Lady  Blanche,  265- 
267. 

Novello,  Clara,  377,  378. 

Reeves,  Henry,  319-330. 

Rosenthal,  366-368. 

Schumann,  Robert,  391-294. 

Von  Lenz,  201-210. 

Weingartner,  400,  401. 
Renan,  Henrietta,  334. 
Requiem  (Berlioz),  193. 
Reulke,  Julius  (pupil),  401. 
Reviczy,  Countess,  100. 
Revolutionary      Study     (Cho- 
pin's), 6. 
Revue  des  Deux  Mondes,  218; 

Europeenne,  211;  du  Monde 

Cathhlique,  88}  de  Paris,  ^gz. 


454 


INDEX 


Richter,  385;  Jean  Paul,  134. 

Riedel,  Karl  (pm)iJ),  89. 

Riedle  Society,  The,  363. 

Ries,  302. 

Rietscnl,  261. 

Righini,  80. 

Rimsky-KorsakofE  (pupil),  27, 
414-416. 

Ring,  Niebelungen  (Wagner), 
7,  142-144,  188,  245,  363. 

Riv6-King,  Julia,  436. 

Robiert  (Meyerbeer's),  231. 

Rodin,  Augusta,  331,  338. 

Roger-Miclos,  Madame,  436. 

Roman  New  Musical  Society, 
382. 

Romantic  school,  5,  28,  63. 

Romeo  and  Juliet  (Berlioz),  212. 

"Rbmischen  Tagebiichern" 
(Gregorovius),  88. 

Roquette,  Otto,  191. 

Rosa,  Carl,  385;  Salvator,  28. 

Rosenthal  Moriz  (pupil),  24,  57, 
366,  367,  424,  425,  427-429. 
431- 

Rospigliosi,  Fanny,  Princess, 
42. 

Rossetti,  Christina,  437. 

Rossini,  63,  80,  84,  86,  loi,  204, 
300.  377.  4".  412. 

Rougon-Macquart  series,  26. 

Rousseau,  J.  J.,  11. 

Royal  Amateur  Orchestral  So- 
ciety (London),  312;  Society 
of  Musicians  (London),  301. 

Rubini,  237,  252. 

Rubinstein,  17,  19,  24,  63,  145, 
156,  171,  222,  223,  262,  374, 
382,  386-388,  402,  420-423, 
427. 433. 435 ;  Nicolas  (pupil), 
421. 

Riickert,  165. 

Rummel,  Franz,  1^4,  425. 

Runciman,  John  F.,  21. 

Russlane,  298. 

Ruzsitska,  199. 

Sacchini,  80. 
Sainte-Beuve,  9,  11. 
Saint-Criq,  Comtesse  Caroline 

de  (pupil),  36,  37. 
St.  Matthew's  Passion  (Bach), 

195- 
Samt-Saens,    Camille    (pupil), 
24.  27,  54,  64,  65,  67,  104, 


176,  177,  i8r,  369,  382,  386 
42s,  426,  433. 

Saint-Simon,  14. 

Salaman,  Charles,  304,  308. 

Salieri,  13. 

Salviati,  347. 

Samarofif,  Olga,  436. 

Sand,  George,  15, 16, 19, 39, 40, 
43.  81,  204,  246,  247,  391, 
436- 

Santa  Francesca  Romana,  cloi- 
ster, 95. 

Sarasate,  432. 

Sarti,  80. 

Sauer,  Emil  (pupO),  24,  57, 
425. 

Sauerma,  Countess  Rosalie 
(pupil),  42. 

Sayn-Wittgenstein,  Princess,  8, 
19,  20,  22-24,  39.  42-45.  47- 
50,  $3,  56,  99,  100,  127,  128, 
135-138,  146,  260,  328,  362. 

Scarlatti,  423. 

Schade,  Dr.,  260. 

Schadow,  28. 

Schakovskoy,  Princess  Nadine. 
(See  Helbig.) 

Scheffer,  Ary,  16,  28,  260,  261, 
289. 

Scherzo  (Chopin),  75,  76,  428. 

Schiller,  47,  165,  167,  223,  279, 
328-330;  Madeleine,  436. 

Scnindler,  13. 

Schlaf,  Johannes,  332. 

Schlesinger' s  Gazette  Musicale, 
203,  287. 

Schlozer,  Kurt  von,  80,  94. 

Schmidt,  Dr.  Leopola,  190. 

Schoenberg,  Arnold,  419. 

Scholl  (band  master),  200. 

Schopenhauer,  Arthur,  328; 
Madame  Johanna,  89,  328. 

Schorn,  Adelheid  von  (pupil), 
44. 

Schubert,  66, 105, 160, 166, 167, 
293,  411.9420. 

Schule  der  Gelaufigkeit  (Czer- 
ny),  182. 

Schumann,  Robert,  5,  19,  53, 
56,  57,  60,  62,  66,  73,  105, 
172,  182,  183,  185,  375,  381, 
397.  398.  405.  408,  409,  418, 
420,  421,  432;  on  Liszt's 
playing,  291-294;  Clara,  53, 
56.  57.  436,  437- 


455 


INDEX 


Schwanthaler,  261. 

Schwarz,  Frau  von,  89. 

Schweinfurt,  89. 

Schwindt,  Moritz  v.,  191. 

Scriabine,  435. 

Scribe,  217. 

Scudo,  17. 

Scgantini,  338. 

Segnitz,  Eugene,  49,  79,  84,  85, 

80,  92. 
Seidl,  Anton,  359. 
Senabrich,  MarceUa,  431. 
Serassi,  Pier  Antonio,  197. 
Serov,  296,  298,  299. 
Servais,  Franz  (pupil),  359. 
Sgambati,  Giovanni  (pupil),  91, 

314,  342,  381-384. 
Sherwood,  William  H.  (pupil), 

425- 
Siloti,   Alexander   (pupil),   24, 

174,  425- 
Simpson,  Palgrave,  252. 
Sinding,  Otto,  338. 
Slivinski,  425. 
Smart,  Sir  G.,  302,  303. 
Smetana,     Frederick     (pupil), 

414. 
Society  of  Music  Friends,  139. 
Solfanelli,  Abbe,  96. 
Sonata  (Beethoven),  6,  38,  59, 

214,  215,  319,  428. 
Sonata  (Wagner),  142. 
Sonata  (Weber),  207-210. 
"Songs     and     Song    Writers" 

(H.  T.  Finck),  165. 
Sonntag,  82,  204. 
Sophie,  Princess,  of  Holland, 

46. 
"Souvenirs     d'une     Cosaque" 

(Olga  Janina),  41. 
Sowinski,  75. 
Spanuth,    August   (analysis   of 

the  Hungarian  Rhapsodies), 

160-165,  425. 
Speyeras,  W.  C.,  389. 
Spohr,  42,  226,  300. 
Spontini,  258,  259. 
Stahr,  Ad.,  79. 
Stahr,  Frauleins,  397. 
Stassor  (Russian  critic),  296- 

298. 
Stavenhagen,  Bemhard  (pupil), 

24,  98,  312,  425. 
Steinway&  Sons,  394. 
Stella,  417. 


Stendhal,  4,  5,  ir,  34,  35,  64, 

141. 
Stern,  Daniel  (pen  name  of  the 

Countess  d'Agoult),  16. 
Sternberg,  von,  425. 
Stimson,  385. 
Stojowski,  425,  435. 
Stradal,  August  (pupil),  98-100. 
Strauss,  Richard,  8,  27,  29,  31, 

52,   54,   145.   146,   168,  331, 

419. 
Streicher,  Nanette,  436. 
Strobl,  417. 

Studies  (Chopin),  75,  437. 
Sullivan,  385. 
Symphony    (Beethoven),    105, 

171,  292,  382. 
Symphony  (Berlioz),  106. 
Symphony  (Haydn),  172. 
Symphony  (Herold),  106. 
Symphony  (Schubert),  293. 
Symphony  (Schumann),  172. 
"Symphony  Since  Beethoven" 

(Weingartner),  153. 
Szalit,  Paula,  436. 
Saekely,  338. 

Szumowska,  Antoinette,  436. 
Szymanowska,     Madame     de, 

436. 

Tadema,  Alma,  100. 

Taffanel,  281. 

Tageblait,  The,  190. 

Tagel  (Wurtemburg  counsellor 
of  court),  254,  255. 

Taglioni,  Marie,  204. 

Taine,  343. 

Taj  Mahal,  29. 

Tancredi,  Tournament  duet  in, 
204. 

Tannhauser  (Wagner),  181, 
188.377. 

Tasso,  100. 

"Tasso"  (Byron's),  115. 

"Tasso"  (Goethe's),  113,  115. 

Tausig,  Alois,  362;  Karl  (pupil), 
17.  19.  58,62,63,  73,95,  138, 
359-366,  374,  376,  402,  420, 
421,  423,  424.  431.  432.  434- 

Taylor,  Franklin,  385. 

Thackeray,  W.  M.,  n,  28,  47. 

Thalberg,  16,  17,  60,  63,  81, 
211,  221,  247,  250,  251,  282- 
28s,  287,  288,  308,  359,  378, 
399>  4".  420,  430- 


456 


INDEX 


Theatre   des   Italiens    (Paris), 

104,  235,  283,  288. 
Theatre   Royal    (Manchester), 

303- 
Theiner,  Pater,  91. 
Thiers,  104. 

Thode,  Professor  Henry,  280. 
Thomas,  Theodore,  132,  133. 
Thorwaldsen,  78,  80. 
Tilgner,  417. 
Tintoretto,  28. 
Tisza,  200. 
Titian,  28,  84. 
Tolstoy,  Countess,  98. 
Torhilon-Buell,  Marie,  436. 
Tr6mont,  Baron,  201. 
Tristan  and  Isolde   (Wagner) 

6,  7.  25.  55,  143.  280,  363. 
Triumph    of    Death,  (fresco), 

175- 
Tschaikowsky,    27,    145,    146, 

367,  419,  422. 
Turgenev,  388. 

Uhland,  165. 

Ungarische    Tanze  (Brahms'), 

190. 
Unger-Sabatier,  Caroline,  42. 
Urspruch,  Anton  (pupil),  24. 

Vaczek,  Carl,  198,  199. 
Valle  deir  Inferno,  100. 
Vallet,  Michael,  390,  391. 
Valse-impromptu    (Chopin), 

186. 
Van  der  Stucken  (pupil),  24, 

358- 
Vasari,  347. 
Vatican,  The,  49,  79,  83,  92,  93, 

94,  342.  352- 
Veit,  83. 

Veldi,  Professor  van  de,  332. 
Verdi,  96,  180,  300,  412. 
Verlaine,    Paul,    10,     62,     63, 

375. 
Verne t,  Horace,  124. 
Veronese,  28. 
Vesque,  226. 

Viardot- Garcia,  Pauline,  42. 
Victoria,  Queen,  24,  312. 
Viennese  pianos,  62,  182. 
Villa  d'Este,  9,  96,  341. 
Villa  Medici,  83. 
Vimercati,  302. 
Vivier,  227. 


Vogrich,  Max,  332,  425;  Opera 

Buddha,  332. 
Voltaire,  124. 
Volterra,  Daniele  da,  347. 

Wagner,  Richard,  i,  2,  5-10, 
18-21,  23,  27,  29-32,  38,  43. 
45.  47.  53-55.  57,  58.  63.  65, 
67,  96,  loi,  103,  108,  119, 
140-144,  146,  147.  150.  151. 
157.  158,  167,  171,  180,  186, 
188,  189,  191,  280,  300,  333, 
362,  363,  382,  411,  412,  419, 
420,  422;  Madame  Richard 
(see  Cosima  von  Biilow  Wag- 
ner);   Siegfried,  26. 

"Wagnerfrage"  (Raff),  260. 

Wales,  Prince  and  Princess  of, 
312. 

Walker,  Bettina,  383; "  My  Mu- 
sical Experiences,"  383. 

Ward,  Andrew,  304,  317,  319. 

Wartburg  festival,  96,  272.         > 

Watteau,  120. 

Weber,  6,  105,  205-207,  215, 
282,   283,   300,   368. 

Wehrstaedt,  206,  207. 

Weimar,  Duchess  of,  (see  Pav- 
lovna);  Ernst,  Grand  Duke, 
330;  Grand  Duke  Carl  Al- 
exander of,  3,  42,  44,  46. 

Weingartner,  Felix  (pupil),  153, 
400,  401;  on  Liszt's  sym- 
phonic works,   153-156. 

Wesendonck,     Mathilde,      20, 

43- 
Wesley,  Samuel  Sebastian,  301. 
Wieland,  328. 
Wiertz,  28. 
Wild,  Jonathan,  79. 
Wildenbruch,  Ernst  von,  331. 
William  Tell,  Oveiture  to,  82, 

298. 
Winckelmann,  78,  275. 
Winding,  314. 
Windsor     Express     (London), 

^04. 
Wmterberger,     Alex,     (pupil), 

^59- 
Wiseman,  Cardinal,  79. 
Wittgenstein,      Princess       (see 

Sayn-Wittgenstein);      Prince 

Nikolaus,  46,  47,  50. 
Wohl,  Janka  (pupil),  56,  417. 
Wolff,  Dr.,  226,  227. 


457 


INDEX 

WoI£Fenbuttel,  172.  Yeats,  327. 

Wolkenstein,  Countess,  42. 

Wolkof,  417.  Zampa,  Overture  to,  181. 

Wolzogen,  Von,  57.  Zeisler,  Fannie  Bloomfield,  431, 

Worcester  festival,  191.  436,  437. 

Woronice    (estate    of   Princess  Zichy,   Geza  (pupil),  24;  Mi- 

Sayn-Wittgenstein),  45-47.  chael,  338. 

Wortley,  Stuart,  252.  Zingarelli,  381. 

Wurtemburg,  King  of,  252,  254,  Zoellncr,  196. 

355.  Zucchari,  347. 


45S 


BOOKS   BY  JAMES  HUNEKER 


PROMENADES 

of  an 

IMPRESSIONIST 

$1.50  net 

Contents  :  Paul  Cezanne — Rops  the  Etcher — Monticellt — Rodin 
— Eugene  Carrifere — Degas — Botticelli — Six  Spaniards — Char- 
din — Black  and  White — Impressionism — A  New  Study  of  Wat- 
teau — Gauguin  and  Toulouse-Lautrec — Literature  and  Art — 
Museum  Promenades. 

"  The  vivacity  of  Mr.  Huneker's  style  sometimes  tends  to  conceal 
the  judiciousness  of  his  matter.  His  justly  great  reputation  as  a 
journalist  critic  most  people  would  attribute  to  his  salient  phrase. 
To  the  present  writer,  the  phrase  goes  for  what  it  is  worth — gener- 
ally it  io  eloquent  and  interpretative,  again  merely  decorative — what 
really  counts  is  an  experienced  and  unbiassed  mind  at  ease  with  its 
material.  The  criticism  that  can  pass  from  Goya,  the  tempestuous, 
that  endless  fount  of  facile  enthusiasms,  and  do  justice  to  the  serene 
talent  of  Fortuny  is  certainly  catholic.  In  fact,  Mr.  Huneker  is  an 
impressionist  only  in  his  aversion  to  the  literary  approach,  and  in  a 
somewhat  wilful  lack  of  system.  This,  too,  often  seems  less  temper- 
amental than  a  result  of  journalistic  conditions,  and  of  the  dire  need 
of  being  entertaining. 

"  We  like  best  such  sober  essays  as  those  which  analyze  for  us  the 
technical  contributions  of  Cdzanne  and  Rodin.  Here,  Mr.  Huneker 
is  a  real  interpreter,  and  here  his  long  experience  of  fmen  and  ways 
in  art  counts  for  much.  Charming,  in  the  slighter  vein,  are  such  ap- 
preciations as  the  Monticelli,  and  Chardin.  Seasoned  readers  of 
Mr.  Huneker's  earlier  essays  in  musical  and  dramatic  criticism  will 
naturally  turn  to  the  fantastic  titles  in  this  book.  Such  border-line 
geniuses  as  Greco,  Rops,  Meryon,  Gustave  Moreau,  John  Martin,  are 
treated  with  especial  gusto.  We  should  like  to  have  an  appreciation 
of  Blake  from  this  ardent  searcher  of  fine  eccentricities.  In  the  main 
the  book  is  devoted  to  artists  who  have  come  into  prominence  since 
1870,  the  French  naturally  predominating,  but  such  precursors  of 
modem  tendencies  or  influential  spirits  as  Botticelli,  Watteau, 
Piranesi  are  included.  Eleven  '  Museum  promenades,'  chiefly  in 
the  Low  Countries  and  in  Spain,  are  on  the  whole  less  interesting 


BOOKS   BY  JAMES   HUNEKER 


than  the  mdividual  appreciations — necessarily  so,  but  this  category 
embraces  a  capital  sketch  of  Franz  Hals  at  Haarlem,  while  the  three 
Spanish  studies  on  the  Prado  Museum,  Velasquez,  and  Greco  at 
Toledo,  are  quite  of  the  best.  From  the  Velasquez,  we  transcribe 
one  of  many  fine  passages: 

" '  His  art  is  not  correlated  to  the  other  arts.  One  does  not 
dream  of  music  or  poetry  or  sculpture  or  drama  in  front  of 
his  pictures.  One  thinks  of  life  and  then  of  the  beauty  of 
the  paint  Velasquez  is  never  rhetorical,  nor  does  he  p>aint 
for  the  sake  of  making  beautiful  surfaces  as  often  does 
Titian.  His  practice  is  not  art  for  art  as  much  as  art  for 
life.  As  a  portraitist,  Titian's  is  the  only  name  to  be  coupled 
with  that  of  Velasquez.  He  neither  flattered  his  sitters,  as 
did  Van  Dyck,  nor  mocked  them  like  Goya.  And  consider 
the  mediocrities,  the  dull,  ugly,  royal  persons  he  was  forced 
to  paint!  He  has  wrung  the  neck  of  banal  eloquence,  and 
his  prose,  sober,  rich,  noble,  sonorous,  rhythmic,  is,  to  my 
taste,  preferable  to  the  exalted,  versatile  volubility  and  lofty 
poetic  tumblings  in  the  azure  of  any  school  of  piainting.' 

Here  we  see  how  winning  Mr.  Huneker's  manner  is  and  how  in- 
sidious. Unless  you  immediately  react  against  that  apparently 
innocent  word  'tumblings,'  your  faith  in  the  grand  style  will  begin 
to  disintegrate.  It  is  this  very  sense  of  walking  among  pitfalls  that 
will  make  the  book  fascinating  to  a  veteran  reader.  The  young  are 
advised  to  temper  it  with  an  infusion  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds's  '  Dis- 
courses,' quantum  sufficit." — Frank  Jewett  Mathee,  Jr.,  in  A'^ew 
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Princess  Mathilde's  Play — Duse  and  D'Annunzio — Villiers  de 
risle  Adam — Maurice  Maeterlinck. 

"His  style  is  a  little  jerky,  but  it  is  one  of  those  rare  styles  in  which 
we  are  led  to  expect  some  significance,  if  not  wit,  in  every  sentence." 
— G.  K.  Chesterton,  in  Lotidon  DaUy  News. 

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prehensively."— The  Outlook. 

"A  capital  book,  lively,  informing,  suggestive." 

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"Eye-opening  and  mind-clarifying  is  Mr.  Huneker's  criticism; 
.  .  .  no  one  having  read  that  opening  essay  in  this  volume 
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—Nietzsche  the  Rhapsodist — Anarchs  of  Art — After  Wagner, 
What? — Verdi  and  Boito. 

"  The  whole  book  is  highly  refreshing  with  its  breadth  of  knowl- 
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"In  some  respects  Mr.  Huneker  must  be  reckoned  the  most 
brilliant  of  all  living  wrriters  on  matters  musical." — Academy,  London. 

"No  modem  musical  critic  has  shown  greater  ingenuity  in  the 
attempt  to  correlate  the  literary  and  musical  tendencies  of  the  nine- 
teenth century." — Spectator,  London. 


BOOKS   BY  JAMES   HUNEKER 

MEZZOTINTS  IN 
MODERN  MUSIC 

BRAHMS,  TSCHAIKOWSKY,  CHOPIN, 

RICHARD  STRAUSS.  LISZT 

AND  WAGNER 

i2mo.    $1.50 

"Mr.  Huneker  is,  in  the  best  sense,  a  critic;  he  listens  to  the 
music  and  gives  you  his  impressions  as  rapidly  and  in  as  few  words 
as  possible ;  or  he  sketches  the  composers  in  fine,  broad,  sweeping 
strokes  with  a  magnificent  disregard  for  unimportant  details.  And 
as  Mr.  Huneker  is,  as  I  have  said,  a  powerful  personality,  a  man  of 
quick  brain  and  an  energetic  imagination,  a  man  of  moods  and  tem- 
perament— a  string  that  vibrates  and  sings  in  response  to  music — 
we  get  in  these  essays  of  his  a  distinctly  original  and  very  valuable 
contribution  to  the  world's  tiny  musical  literature." 

— J.  F.  RuNcniAN,  in  London  Saturday  Review. 


MELOMANIACS 

i2mo.    $1.50 

Contents:  The  Lord's  Prayer  in  B — A  Son  of  Liszt — A  Chopin 
of  the  Gutter — The  Piper  of  Dreams — An  Emotional  Acrobat 
— Isolde's  Mother — The  Rim  of  Finer  Issues — An  Ibsen  Girl — 
Tannhauser's  Choice — The  Red-Headed  Piano  Player — Bryn- 
hild's  Immolation — The  Quest  of  the  Elusive — An  Involimtary 
Insurgent — Hunding's  Wife — The  Corridor  of  Time — Avatar 
— The  Wegstaffes  give  a  Musicale — The  Iron  Virgin — Dusk 
of  the  Gods — Siegfried's  Death — Intermezzo — A  Spinner  of 
Silence — The  Disenchanted  Symphony — Music  the  Cfonqueror. 

"It  would  be  difficult  to  sum  up  'Melomaniacs'  in  a  phrase. 
Never  did  a  book,  in  my  opinion  at  any  rate,  exhibit  greater  con- 
trasts, not,  perhaps,  of  strength  and  weakness,  but  of  clearness  and 
obscurity.  It  is  inexplicably  uneven,  as  if  the  writer  were  perpetu- 
ally playing  on  the  boundary  line  that  divides  sanity  of  thought  from 
intellectual  chaos.  There  is  method  in  the  madness,  but  it  is  a 
method  of  intangible  ideas.  Nevertheless,  there  is  genius  written 
over  a  large  portion  of  it,  and  to  a  musician  the  wealth  of  musical 
imagination  is  a  living  spring  of  thought." 

--Hakold  E.  Gorst,  in  London  Saturday  Review  (Dec  8,  xpo6). 


BOOKS   BY  JAMES   HUNEKER 


VISIONARIES 

i2mo.    $1.50  net 

Contents:  A  Master  of  Cobwebs — The  Eighth  Deadly  Sin — The 
Purse  of  Aholibah — Rebels  of  the  Moon — The  Spiral  Road — 
A  Mock  Sun — Antichrist — The  Eternal  Duel — The  Enchanted 
Yodler — The  Third  Kingdom — The  Haunted  Harpsichord — 
The  Tragic  Wall— A  Sentimental  Rebellion— Hall  of  the  Miss- 
ing Footsteps — The  Cursory  Light — An  Iron  Fan — The  Woman 
Who  Loved  Chopin — The  Tune  of  Time — Nada — Pan. 

"The  author's  style  is  sometimes  grotesque  in  its  desire  both  to 
startle  and  to  find  true  expression.  He  has  not  followed  those  great 
novelists  who  write  French  a  child  may  read  and  imderstand.  He 
calls  the  moon  'a  spiritual  gray  wafer';  it  faints  in  'a  red  wind'; 
'truth  beats  at  the  bars  of  a  man's  bosom';  the  sim  is  'a  sulphur- 
colored  cymbal';  a  man  moves  with  'the  jaunty  grace  of  a  young 
elephant'  But  even  these  oddities  are  significant  and  to  be  placed 
hign  above  the  slipshod  sequences  of  words  that  have  done  duty 
till  they  are  as  meaningless  as  the  imprint  on  a  worn-out  coin. 

"  Besides,  in  nearly  every  story  the  reader  b  arrested  by  the  idea, 
and  only  a  litde  troubled  now  and  then  bv  an  over-elaborate  style. 
If  most  of  us  are  sane,  the  ideas  cherished  by  these  visionaries  are 
insane;  but  the  imagination  of  the  author  so  illuminates  them  that 
we  follow  wondering  and  spellbound.  In  'The  Spiral  Road'  and 
in  some  of  the  other  stories  00th  fantasy  and  narrative  may  be  com- 
pared with  Hawthorne  in  his  most  unearthly  moods.  The  younger 
man  has  read  his  Nietzsche  and  has  cast  off  his  heritage  of  simple 
morals.  Hawthorne's  Puritanism  finds  no  echo  in  these  modem 
souls,  all  sceptical,  wavering  and  unblessed.  But  Hawthorne's 
splendor  of  vision  and  his  pxjwer  of  sympathy  with  a  tormented 
mind  do  live  again  in  the  best  of  Mr.  Huneker's  stories." 

— London  Academy  (Feb.  3,  1906). 


CHOPIN: 

The  Man  and  His  Music 

IV/T/f  ETCHED  PORTRAIT 

i2mo.    $2.00 

"  No  pianist,  amateur  or  professional,  can  rise  from  the  perusal  of 
his  pages  without  a  deeper  appreciation  of  the  new  forms  of  beauty 
which  Chopin  has  added,  like  so  manv  species  of  orchids,  to  the 
musical  flora  of  the  nineteenth  century." — The  Nation. 

"  I  think  it  not  too  much  to  predict  that  Mr.  Huneker's  estimate 
of  Chopin  and  his  works  is  destined  to  be  the  permanent  one.  He 
gives  the  reader  the  cream  of  the  cream  of  all  noteworthy  previous 
commentators,  besides  much  that  is  wholly  his  own.  He  speaks  at 
once  with  modesty  and  authority,  always  with  personal  charm." 

— Boston  Transcript. 


CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS,  NEW  YORK 


Ml 

WfO 

Hf 

THE 

LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

Santa  Barbara 

THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW. 


JlETURNED  NOV  2  9  1982 


198R 

RFT'f]  NOV  10  1986  B 


,i^  U  V  i  ^ 


Series  9482 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000  631  290     4 


VfV 


